Two Roads Diverged
by Trinitas
Summary: Genetics and circumstances were against Phoebe and Cole's romance from the beginning. But when he is finally given a chance to choose his own fate, can it also mean a second chance for their love? —AU after "Sympathy for the Demon."—
1. Chessboards and Choices

**Two Roads Diverged**

_When Phoebe Halliwell and Cole Turner met, she was the youngest of the Charmed Ones, and he was half-demon, a mercenary murderer assigned the task of killing her and her sisters._

_And he meant to…but somewhere along the line, she stopped being his prey and became something more. Somehow—against all odds and all reason—the two would-be enemies became lovers._

_They overcame every obstacle facing them (and there were many), but then another rose, more insidious than any before it. She did not realize what the change in him meant until it was nearly too late for them both, and he was powerless to tell her._

_And so it went: deception, possession, and then ruin._

_His freedom and his death came in the same words._

_He returned to her, the soul that had escaped the vanquish gathering enough power to fight its way out of the darkness of the Wasteland, but where there should have been love and joy, he met only rejection and anger._

_"I do love you," she finally told him, "and I always will. But it doesn't change anything…it doesn't matter. It's over between us." And with that, she turned him away, leaving him to suffer the slow fire of the Dark magic he'd taken in and the pain of her desertion._

_It seemed, for a while, that they must be allowed to continue on the road they had found themselves on, however great the losses would be. But then, as she watched them—a shared glance, the press of unspoken words, an instant's relaxation of barriers._

_And what had been a dead end split into a crossroads._

_One path led to destruction, but the other…_

_Light Magic surveyed it, and she smiled on the scene that shimmered in the air before her—a man and a woman, very much in love, and the bright laughter of a child._

"_Two roads diverged," she said quietly, turning her attention to the man. His pained, longing look was starkly dissimilar to the contented expression he wore in the image she'd seen; even now, he was preparing to leave what should have been his home. "Given a choice…which will be yours?"_

_She waited until he faded out, and then she whispered a summons, changing his course and—she hoped—his future._

Cole cast one last longing glance at Phoebe, then backed away from her. He could see in her face that he had lost the small fragment of trust she'd extended the moment his demonic powers had returned. _I did it for her,_ he reminded himself, remembering how she had looked at him—if only for an instant—before Barbas had interrupted. In that moment, there had been no fear, no hatred in her eyes. _I did it for her, and that makes it worth it._

But it had been so _good_ to be rid of evil for a while. Why was it that every time he tried to make a complete break with it, some circumstance interfered? First the Hollow, then the Source, and now this?

_Comes with the territory, I guess. I was born half-and-half, and I'll probably die that way. _He sighed quietly, then turned his back on them and faded out.

Much to his surprise, he did not reappear in his penthouse apartment, as he had intended. Instead, he found himself in an expansive room, divided neatly in half. On the right side, walls, floor and ceiling were of gleaming white marble. On the left side, they were black.

The entire room was bare of furnishings, save for a chessboard standing nearby. The pieces—half clear quartz, half obsidian—had obviously been in play, but there was no sign of either player.

In the magical realm, that meant nothing. Besides, he would not have made a mistake in something so simple as fading—it was too similar to shimmering, which he had mastered well over a century ago. Ergo, something—or someone, perhaps—had interfered and caught him in transit.

"I did," said a female voice, sounding somewhat pleased.

He spun to face a tall, regal-looking woman, solemn-eyed and garbed in white robes. He could see a triquetra hanging on a chain around her neck, and relaxed a little: that was the Charmed Ones' symbol; no demon would dare wear it. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I have many names," she said simply, holding his gaze. "None of them are of particular consequence."

He was curious nonetheless, but decided it would be better to know what he was dealing with before he pried into the affairs of someone potentially dangerous. "Then _what_ are you?"

"I am Light Magic."

He bit out a laugh, but averted his eyes. "So what do you want with me?" he said. "I haven't exactly been the model of goodness lately."

"No," she agreed, her tone entirely nonjudgmental. "You have not."

If she were going to kill him, he thought, she probably would have done it before this. That meant she wanted him for some other purpose. "You still haven't answered me: why am I here?"

She did not answer, but gestured, and the chessboard moved across the room to stand in front of him, a chair materializing behind. "Sit down," she said, conjuring a second chair for herself and sinking into it.

He sat.

"A fascinating game, chess," she said mildly. "It has long been used to play at war."

_Either Light Magic's nuts, _he thought, _or there's something bigger going on here._ Glancing down, he scrutinized the pieces on the board.

There were many more of them than there would be in a normal game, and they weren't, he realized in an instant, the usual game pieces. These were small, exquisitely crafted models, some human, some demonic, and more that were neither. The bases of some of them were ringed in silver, others in gold. "So. This is your representation of Light and Dark forces? This board? These pieces?"

"Very good," she said approvingly. "The majority of them belong on one side or the other." She opened her hand, and another figurine appeared in it, which she handed to him. "Then, of course, there is the rare individual that does not."

He traced the contours of the model with a fingertip. It was not wholly quartz, nor obsidian, but both fused seamlessly together. Cut into the obsidian was the image of Belthazor, and into the quartz, his human form and face. He wasn't half-demon anymore, strictly speaking—not since his demonic half had been vanquished months ago—but it was as good a metaphor for his dual nature as any: no power-stripping potion could interfere with genetics.

"Your mother's legacy is strong in you," she said quietly, taking the piece from his hand. She let it go, and it hovered over the center of the board, suspended, rotating in a slow circle. "So, too, is human love. And the two, as they must, are warring.

"You are here," she continued, rising, "because you cannot continue to attempt to straddle both worlds." With another gesture, the chessboard slid back to its original position, the chair vanished even as he stood, and he looked down to find that he had one foot on each side of the room.

It wasn't difficult to grasp what she wanted. "Let me guess," he said with a sardonic smile. "One side or the other?" All things considered, he didn't think he'd been doing so bad a job keeping his demonic tendencies in check. But he was tired of belonging nowhere, and without Phoebe to anchor him firmly to good…

"Precisely," she said, indicating the chessboard. "The time has come for you to choose. You can save one self only by relinquishing the other."

He looked up at her again, allowing himself a measure of guarded hope. "If I choose to be human, will Phoebe…?"

Her expression revealed nothing. "Free will is paramount," she said deliberately, "and the witch's love is hers to give or withhold. I will say that it is not impossible."

Not impossible. A chance, however slim, did exist. Maybe, even now, if he chose good over evil, she would give him another chance. She had forgiven him more often than he probably deserved.

That did not change the fact that Darkness was seductive. A part of him _wanted_ to take a step to the left, wanted to give up the fight and allow his evil side to consume his humanity. The end of conscience would be the end of conflict, the end of pain.

And power would be assured then. Quite aside from his magical capability—which was considerable in itself—there was great and terrible power in knowing what he wanted and having no doubts.

But if he became fully demonic, he knew, he would also lose his soul, his capacity for love. Then there could be no possibility of a future with Phoebe: he would be her enemy, and she and her sisters would vanquish him without a second thought, all their skewed perceptions and wrong conclusions justified.

And after everything he'd gone through in effort after effort to be good, did he really want to invalidate it all now? Could he return to being a mercenary, forever under the command of one superior or another, killing without remorse? Was that what he wanted?

No. Not really. All he wanted was for the pain of eternal division to end.

And Phoebe. Always, always Phoebe.

He'd said it himself, hadn't he? That he couldn't be good and wouldn't be evil? Now he _could_ be good, if he wanted to. For the first time, the choice was truly his—all it would take was a single step. "This is irrevocable, either way?" he asked.

"The choice is yours," she said, her face and tone both very grave. "Once made, it will not be interfered with."

He released a deep, long breath and moved to the right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the figure representing him change shape and turn entirely clear as it drifted down to join the others. She watched this, then nodded and reached forward to close her hands around his.

_For a woman,_ he thought absently, _she's got a strong grip._

"_Be now freed of bloodline's ties,"_ she chanted, _"so Light may grow where Darkness dies."_

She dropped his hands and stepped back, and he gasped as silver fire leapt up in a rush of intense heat, surrounding him; bright tongues of flame licked at his skin and clothes. For a single, wild instant, he wondered if he were being vanquished.

Then he felt slightly ridiculous: he was overheated, but he wasn't being burned to death. For one thing, there would be a hell of a lot of pain involved, and he was not in pain. On the contrary: he felt as though a weight was being lifted from his shoulders as heat and light consumed the traces of Darkness. This was not the brutal tearing that had accompanied Paige's power-stripping potion—or Phoebe's before it, for that matter. This was cleansing. Healing.

Then, all at once, the flames were gone. Experimentally, just to be certain the nightmare was truly over, he swept a hand forward, startled when a starburst of bright blue light flashed briefly in his palm before winking out. "I thought you stripped my powers?"

"Of course," she said, and held up a crystal filled with roiling black smoke, regarding it with some distaste. She snapped her fingers, and it vanished. "They will be properly disposed of."

"Then what was that?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Over a century as one of the Underworld's most prominent demons, and you don't recognize the power of deflection when you see it?"

"_Deflection?"_ he demanded, incredulous. That was not an insignificant power. It could be used passively or actively, and the witches that had it—rare, if he understood correctly—were better armed than most. "Why? After a hundred years as a demon, why make me a witch?"

"I have my reasons," she said with finality, and then reached forward to press her fingertips to his left wrist. _"Consignare."_

The skin she touched glowed white, and he looked down to find an elaborate symbol drawn there, vaguely similar to a pentagram, but with eight points instead of five. "What's that for?"

"That is my personal seal," she said simply. "The sisters may not recognize it, but their Whitelighter certainly will. Be certain he sees it."

"Oh." He understood that, and was grateful for the consideration. "This says, 'I come with the official endorsement of Light Magic, so don't shoot?'"

She looked mildly amused. "Not the words I would have used, but it is meant for your protection, and will fade away when it is no longer needed. I have also taken the liberty of…modifying…certain of your legal records. It will not do to have difficulties later."

"Can you at least tell me why you're going to all this trouble for me?" he asked. "What makes me worth saving?"

She gave him a long, appraising look, then whispered something too low for him to catch, and an image appeared, hovering in the air before him. A little girl, perhaps six or seven, with dark hair and half-familiar features. "She does."

Cole scrutinized the child's face, drawing a sharp breath in shocked recognition. _She has my eyes._

"This child must exist," she said with a nod at the chessboard. "She is significant, and she is—or will be—yours."

The question burned, unspoken: who was her mother?

"My objective is much the same as yours," she said, answering what he did not dare ask. "And to that end, I am, as mortals say, 'stacking the odds.'" She regarded him steadily. "I cannot compel your chosen to love you—and would not, if I could—but I can remove certain obstacles."

That was more than he had hoped for. If Light Magic herself was rallying behind his greatest desire, how could he lose? "You _want_ me and Phoebe together?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Strong parents will produce a strong child," she said matter-of-factly. "And any member of a Charmed circle must be strong." Pausing, she looked up and smiled, which took much of the severity from her features. "Rest assured, Cole, your daughter and her cousins will do great things."

"Any advice about Phoebe?" he asked.

Granted, asking Light Magic for romantic tips was probably pushing the envelope a little, but she'd done enough to help him that he was sure she wasn't going to blow him up, if only because that would preclude the existence of any children.

So he'd bank on her plans for that child.

Her expression was almost indulgent, but she shook her head. "No. What you do will be enough on its own merit: I have faith in your ability to mend the relationship."

How should he start? By groveling at her feet for forgiveness?

"Fine," he said, trying not to sound irritated. "So…will you send me home now?"

"I'll send you where you need to be," she said, and waved a hand.

His vision dissolved in a flurry of bright white lights, a quick, sharp jolt running through his body, and the next thing he knew—

"Cole?" Phoebe's voice, surprised and a little wary. "What are you doing here? We didn't summon you back."

He was in the Halliwells' attic again. Marvelous. _If you're listening,_ he thought, _a _warning _would've been nice! _"No," he agreed. "You didn't summon me. I was…sent."

"By who?" Piper demanded. She looked up from the crystals she was packing away, her eyes narrowed in warning, and brought a hand up, a pose that usually preceded an explosion.

_Okay, bad choice of words. _Placatingly, Cole stepped back, outstretching his own hands, palms up. "I'm not here to hurt you," he said. "I just _helped_ you, remember? Maybe I'm wrong on this, but I don't think blowing me up would be the best way to repay the favor."

Slowly, her gaze never leaving him, Piper lowered her hand and allowed it to fall to her side. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything," Cole told her honestly. Then he paused, remembering he no longer possessed the power to fade, and amended, "Except maybe to be orbed home." He looked to Paige, righting books and potion vials, then to Leo, who was sweeping shards of broken glass into a dustpan. "If one of you wouldn't mind?"

"Just—fade out the way you came in," Paige said, not looking up. "Go! Shoo!"

"Paige, that wasn't fading," Phoebe told her sister, giving him a scrutinizing look. "That was more like a magic-to-magic spell, or some other kind of transport. He doesn't do that." Then, more slowly, "Demons…don't do that." A brief pause. "You're not…?"

He nodded.

"Phoebe, no," Piper said firmly. "No—no, no. Every time he shows up and feeds you some stupid line—"

"I happen to have proof of what I'm saying this time," he retorted, affronted, and bared the shining mark on his wrist. "See?"

"Uh-huh," Piper said shortly, pointing at the door. "Very nice tattoo. Now get out."

"Piper…" Leo stepped forward and looked at the mark, then back at his wife. "That's not a tattoo. That's a well-known insignia of Light Magic."

Paige spared him a glance. "Never seen it before," she said blithely.

"All right, then, maybe not well-known to witches," Leo amended. "But I've seen it before, Up There. Anything with that mark had it put there by Light Magic—"

"So he forced some witch to cast a spell," Paige interrupted, impatient. "If he thought it'd make him look good—"

"No," Leo cut in. "Light Magic is—good's supreme authority. In charge of the Angels of Destiny, which are in charge of the Elders, and so on, right down to mortals."

"Let me get this straight," Piper said testily. "The damn _Charmed Ones_ have to go through the Elders for stupid orders, but _he_, a half-demon who's killed God knows how many Innocents, gets a direct audience with the CEO of the whole system?" She glared at Cole, as though this were his fault. "How is that fair?"

"Don't ask me," he said, shrugging. "All I wanted to do was go home and go to bed."

"I'll take you home, if you don't mind taking the car," Phoebe offered.

"Are you _sure_ you haven't lost track of who's taking who for a ride here?" Piper asked. "Phoebe—"

"It's ten minutes away," Phoebe said. "Look, I'll call for Leo if I'm in trouble, all right? But if he doesn't have powers, I can probably kick his ass without any help."

He would have to correct her misassumption about his powers, but he wasn't about to do it in front of Piper. He was on thin enough ice with her as it was, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her think he was a threat—he didn't feel like testing whether or not his deflection would hold up against her power of molecular combustion.

However, he wasn't about to let his wife's jab at his skills go. "We were well-matched, last I checked," he said mildly to Phoebe, referring to their sparring sessions of the year previous. "You won about half the time."

"How do you know how much practice I've had since then?" she said flippantly as she opened the attic door and started down the stairs. "Come on. You look dead on your feet."

He wanted to protest, but knew he probably did—it had been a very draining night. Wordlessly, he followed her down the stairs, into the foyer, and out the front door. She locked it behind them, then slid into the driver's seat. He got in on the passenger side, and she turned the key in the ignition and drove.

"So," she said at length, "are you going to tell me what happened tonight?"

"I meant to fade home," he explained. "And when I tried, that's not where I ended up. I don't have a clue where I _did_ go, but what happened, in a nutshell, is that Light Magic told me to choose either good or evil, and I chose good. She made me human, gave me the power of deflection for reasons I'm still not clear on, and sent me back to your attic."

It wouldn't be a good idea to mention the child, or anything he'd been told about their possible future. After all, he couldn't offer any proof, and Phoebe might think he was making it up in an attempt to manipulate her.

She was still startled, though, even by the little he'd revealed. "You're a witch?" She sounded like she found the idea almost as preposterous as he had.

He couldn't blame her: he was still trying to wrap his mind around it. "That's what I said," he confirmed, wondering whether to demonstrate his new power but realizing he wasn't familiar enough it yet to be able to use it reliably at will. "My working theory is that anything that enters the manor without powers ends up being used as target practice."

"Piper probably would have," Phoebe said dryly. "She doesn't trust you as far as she can throw you."

Given that that was fairly far, the cliché was definitely misapplied. "I know. I can't really blame her—as I told Light Magic, I haven't exactly been the model of goodness lately."

"That wasn't your fault," Phoebe said as she made a final turn and parked near the apartment complex. "Barbas was probably messing with your mind for weeks—we know he was with ours—and before that…God only knows what all those powers were doing. I think they might have been driving you a little crazy."

Okay, he could work with this. If she was willing to forgive some of what he'd done and make excuses for him, he wasn't going to disagree with her and make things harder for himself.

Besides, she was right. Whatever else he had to take responsibility for, he wasn't to blame for the hallucinations and the somewhat psychotic behavior that had gone with them. "This probably isn't the best time for this talk," he pointed out. "If you stay with me too long, your sisters are going to send Leo after you."

"He's my Whitelighter, not my babysitter," she said. "And I _do_ want to talk to you."

As tempting as it was to invite her in and let her talk, he knew that it was better to start working to make a good impression on her sisters. Fixing his relationship with Phoebe would be much easier without their opposition. "You can call me tomorrow," he promised.

"Tomorrow," she echoed, and squeezed his hand gently in farewell as he moved to get out of the car. He nodded and leaned away, but her hand tightened around his until her grip was almost painful, and he heard her draw a short, sharp breath.

She maintained contact for several seconds, then jerked her hand back as though he'd burned her.

A premonition. It had to be; he'd known her too long to mistake the signs. But what had she seen, that it had shocked her so much? "Phoebe? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, just slightly too quickly for it to be the truth. "I'm fine. Goodnight."

He slid out of his seat and shut the car door behind him, and she drove away without another word.

_A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it! By the way, Light Magic's spell translates from the Latin to 'to seal, authenticate, vouch for, or record', for those of you who are curious. Remember to review…it motivates me to write and update._


	2. Revelations and Deliberations

Back at the manor, Phoebe dodged her sisters' questions about Cole as she helped them clean up the remainder of the mess in the attic, hands moving mechanically. _I did not see that,_ she told herself. _I did _not _see that._

Who was she kidding? Denying a premonition didn't invalidate it, and her premonitions had never lied to her yet.

What scared her was how badly she wanted this one to be true. She'd thought she was free to write Cole out of her life for good, and while she'd been resigned to the fact that she'd probably always carry a torch for him, she'd also been fully prepared to let him go. Then Paige's blunder had made him human, and she'd seen the man she'd fallen in love with—was still in love with—and suddenly had doubts.

When he'd agreed to take his demonic powers back, if only for her sake, she'd thought that would be the end of it. The Darkness that tainted his blood had tried to consume her one too many times, and that had been enough to remind her that if she played with hellfire—no matter how tempting it was—she would inevitably get burned.

Or at least it _would_ have been enough, if a higher power hadn't decided that Cole deserved to choose his own fate.

The trouble was that the ramifications of his choice seemed to be pushing her down a road she wasn't sure she could travel again. It seemed that every time they tried to make the relationship work, something turned him evil and tried to pull her in after him.

She still hadn't quite managed to purge that recurring 'Queen of the Underworld' nightmare.

"Phoebe?" Leo's voice broke into her reverie, and she looked up to discover that Piper and Paige had returned downstairs. "Are you all right?"

"Depends," she said with a sigh, sinking down onto the window-seat. "Are you asking as my Whitelighter, or as my brother-in-law?"

"As your Whitelighter," he said matter-of-factly, "but only because that's the only way you'll tell me anything. I know you're overwhelmed and upset, and that it's probably because of Cole—"

"Who else?" she said in frustration, throwing up her hands. "First he's a demon, then human, then a demon again, now human supposedly for good, but who knows? And that dredges up a lot of emotional baggage. And on top of that, I got this crazy premonition—I mean, I'm in the middle of finalizing a _divorce_, and now suddenly we're supposed to remarry?"

Leo rarely looked surprised, nearly six years of being the Charmed Ones' Whitelighter having desensitized him to just about every kind of shock, but there was definitely surprise in his face now. "You saw a marriage?"

"Grams as High Priestess, Canon in D, Piper and Paige in formal dresses and you and the baby in suits," she said flatly. "And of course, Cole next to me by the altar. Kind of hard to mistake _that_ little detail."

"The baby was wearing a suit?" Leo's face lit up. "I get a boy?"

Apparently, he had followed her only so far. Phoebe could understand his happiness, really she could, but right now she needed a levelheaded Whitelighter, not a giddy expectant father. "Wyatt Matthew," she confirmed, trying not to be impatient. "Can we get back to my premonition, please?"

"Right," Leo said, trying with limited success to wipe the silly grin off his face. "Wyatt Matthew Halliwell," he mused under his breath, testing the name. "I like it."

"Leo?" Phoebe prompted. "Please?"

"Sorry," he apologized. "It's just…well, I never even hoped I'd have a son, not when—"

"The Halliwell line is matriarchal and known for three centuries' worth of daughters," Phoebe finished for him. "I get it, and I hate to rain on the 'happy father-to-be' parade, but I need to know what I'm supposed to do!"

Leo frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. "What did you see, Phoebe?"

"I told you," she said, looking away.

"Yes, you told me," he agreed, voice level. "And it would help me if you'd tell me the rest."

She didn't bother to ask how he knew she'd been leaving some things out. He always had been perceptive, and knew her well enough to recognize when she was being evasive.

"Okay," she acquiesced, drawing a deep, steadying breath. "Like I said, marriage—or handfasting, I guess. Not too different from yours and Piper's, you know, except minus the whole astral-Prue fiasco. I see the last part of the ceremony, then the kiss—and then cut ahead; I'm not sure how far. Next thing I know, I'm telling him I'm pregnant." She smiled a little wistfully. In her premonition, Cole's face was like Leo's when he looked at Piper: glowing with love and the promise of a coming child.

And it would _be_ a child this time, a real, human baby, not demon-spawn.

"Anyway," she said, "skip ahead again to late stages of labor. It looks like it hurts like hell"—she couldn't help but wince a little at the memory—"but at the end of it, I have a little girl."

Leo smiled. "It's probably a little early for congratulations…"

"Congratulations?" Phoebe demanded. "This time yesterday I wasn't even planning on _seeing_ Cole again, never mind having a baby with him! I—I can't go through this again. Something always goes wrong."

"I honestly don't think it will this time," Leo said carefully. "Did you ever think that maybe you got the premonition so you'd know it was okay to try again?"

No, she hadn't. "If I _did_ want to, I wanted it to be _my_ choice, not some edict from the Powers-That-Be," she told him, rising. "I don't like to feel like some pawn on a chessboard!"

"You're not," Leo said gently. "You always have free will—your premonitions show what the future will be, but only if you don't change it. You still can." He paused. "The question is, do you really want to deny yourself happiness just because you're afraid?" Getting up himself, he moved towards the attic door. "Some risks are worth taking," he said, and left her.

He would know, she reflected. He'd loved Piper enough to risk everything for her, even going so far as to defy the Elders directly, which had meant clipped wings and the risk of permanent separation. Even now, juggling a career and a family was an ongoing struggle for him. But perseverance had paid off. They were married now for nearly two years, and Piper was due to deliver their firstborn in just a little under two months.

Hadn't Cole gone through just as much for her as Leo had for Piper? He'd fought his demonic nature for two years to reassert humanity, in spite of the complications and the pain such stark duality would cause. He'd risked death by torture and eternal damnation countless times to save her life, or even the lives of her sisters. Just tonight, he'd been given humanity—freedom from evil that she knew he desired above all else—and turned his back on it so she might be safe from the uprising of another Source.

He loved her.

And she loved him. In spite of all the reasons not to, in spite of all the times she'd been hurt, she loved him deeply. _So why the hell is this so complicated?_ she asked herself. _What's wrong with happily-ever-after? God knows I've earned it._

She remembered Cole's marriage proposal, his words from months earlier echoing in her head. _'I come to you as a man—nothing more, nothing less…'_

She'd accepted then. What made this time different?

"Maybe because last time he was human and we were going to get married, the Source possessed him," she muttered bitterly to herself. "Yeah, maybe that's it."

But the Source was vanquished, as was that scheming Seer. And with Barbas out for the count—hopefully for good this time—there was no prospective Source, and the Underworld was in anarchy. That made things as safe and stable as they ever got for a witch: there were no immediate threats.

So why was she afraid? "Because somehow," she answered herself, "whenever I get involved with Cole—whatever he is at the time—it comes back to bite me in the ass."

But…what if it didn't? Suppose she took the chance, and it didn't blow up in her face? Suppose they really would be as happy as her premonition suggested? Wasn't that what she'd always hoped for?

Of course, that had been before her stint as Queen of the Underworld, before she'd left her sisters and all good magic to pursue an illusion of happiness with Cole-the-Source.

She'd never, she realized abruptly, been married to Cole himself, Cole the human being. She hadn't even been engaged to him for long before the incident with the Hollow that had started everything.

Was it fair to judge Cole based on what he'd done as the Source? Was it fair to expect him to be able to fight against his demonic side when she'd turned her back on him and taken away what he was fighting for in the first place? When she knew that her faith in him, her love for him, was largely what gave him the strength to fight at all?

She owed it to Cole, after everything they'd shared, to give him a chance in his own right. Not to fulfill any premonition, but so she'd know—whether it worked out or not—that she'd tried. That she hadn't run away out of fear.

"One more chance," she promised herself as she went downstairs. "And if he blows it, I give up with a clean conscience."

Sighing, she thought of the final divorce papers, still on her dresser waiting for Cole's signature. The divorce had been her idea, not his; if she wanted to put it on the back burner indefinitely, she could.

But going into this on a trial basis while she was still officially married to him was just _asking_ for trouble, wasn't it? Whether or not she wore her wedding band, if she wasn't actively taking steps to end the marriage, it meant she was committed.

If one of her readers had put this situation in front of her, she mused, she'd have advised them to get out of the relationship as fast as humanly possible. Break up, get the divorce, and then get a restraining order for good measure. But…

Cole was a special case. Cole was _hers._

"I must be insane," she said under her breath as she picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number.

Logically, the first person she should inform of all these changes in their relationship was Cole himself. _Maybe, _she thought, _after the way we all treated him, he won't be interested in a relationship anymore, and I'll be off the hook._

Even without the premonition to contradict her, she knew that was about as likely as hell freezing over. He hadn't given up on them even when she'd literally shot him down in flames.

She heard the phone ring, once, twice, three times—_click._ "Hello?"

"Cole?" she said, twisting the phone cord around her finger.

"Phoebe," he returned around a yawn, his voice rough with sleep, "do you have _any _idea what time it is?"

She glanced at the clock and winced: it was nearly one in the morning. "Sorry," she apologized. "I lost track of time."

"It's all right," Cole said. Then, conversationally, "What's so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow? Another demon attack?" A wry note crept into his tone. "I think one per night is about my limit."

"It's not a demon," Phoebe said, dropping heavily onto one of the kitchen chairs. "I just wanted to tell you…I've decided to wait awhile before I finalize the divorce."

"Wait?" He was trying to hide it, she knew, but he still sounded hopeful. "Why?"

She hesitated, sighed softly, and then said, "Because you weren't yourself when we were married, and I shouldn't blame you for that. It wasn't your fault—I should have known better than to marry you when you were possessed."

"It wasn't your fault either," he said, and released a long breath. "The Source was using both of us." A lengthy pause. "Can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," she said, and was surprised to find she meant it. "It wasn't you that did all those things." Another pause. Cole didn't say anything. "Look," Phoebe continued, "before it all went to hell, when you were human...things were good between us."

"They were," he agreed, an expectant undertone in his voice inviting her to continue.

She bit her lower lip, reminding herself that she'd already made up her mind about this. "I'm willing to give it one last try," she said. "Us, I mean. But if it doesn't work…"

"I understand," he said, and yawned again. As glad as he sounded, there was no denying that he was also very, _very_ tired. "Can we continue this in the afternoon, maybe?"

"Actually," she said, rising and looking at the calendar, "we'll have to wait until Friday if you want to meet in person. A couple of days to process all of this would be good for both of us, and besides, the rest of the family will be out then for most of the day, and I don't have work 'til late afternoon. It'd probably be better to talk alone."

"Right," he said, and then was quiet for a couple seconds. "Does this change of heart have anything to do with your premonition tonight?"

She frowned. "How did you know I had…?"

"Phoebe," he chuckled, "we've been together long enough that I can tell by now. Besides," he added, "you were squeezing my hand like a stress ball. What did you see, anyway?"

"I'll tell you when I see you," she said. "Goodnight." She hesitated for a long moment, then added, "I love you." She hadn't said that to him in a long time, so it felt a little awkward, but also undeniably right.

She'd tried to turn her back on him, tried to break away and forget…but she couldn't. Love wasn't something she could simply switch off, and it was time she admitted it to herself…and to him.

"I love you, too," he said softly, and hung up.

It felt just as good to hear it as it had to say it. Smiling, she padded upstairs to her bedroom and burrowed deep under the covers. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would look through the Book of Shadows and find a way to share with him what she'd seen. Something like this, he deserved to see, not just hear secondhand.

_A/N: Just so you know, I'll be alternating between Cole's point of view and Phoebe's—rebuilding the relationship is a mutual process, and I feel I'd be doing the story an injustice if I didn't portray both sides. In any case, I hope you enjoyed this week's installment. Please review: writing a few sentences to tell me something you liked will only take you five minutes, and it might just motivate me to post next week's chapter ahead of schedule!_


	3. Through Her Eyes

Four days later, Cole was still more than a little incredulous. _Whatever she saw,_ he thought as he hunted for his long-unused car keys,_ it must really have been something._ After the way they'd parted, it would have taken a miracle to get her to give their relationship another try, and even then, he'd expected it to take all the powers of persuasion he had at his disposal. For her to initiate contact, never mind pausing the divorce proceedings…

Phoebe was a very forgiving woman, but even she had limits. After what the Source had done to her, he'd thought he'd finally reached them.

Apparently not.

_This time,_ he vowed, _I won't let anything come between us._

He didn't expect it to be a difficult promise to keep. Human, endowed with a power with which to defend himself, and with Light Magic's word that nothing would try to turn him evil, he was certain that all his bases were more than adequately covered.

Now, if he could just find those damn car keys! Used to shimmering (then to fading) everywhere, he hadn't had any real need for his car in a long time. He'd bought it purely for show, and that was essentially what he'd used it for.

After another fifteen minutes of fruitless searching, he finally gave up and called Phoebe.

"Cole?"

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "Look, I hate to be a pain in the neck, but you may have to come pick me up. I've been looking for half an hour, and I can't find the car keys."

"Switch me over to speakerphone," she said after a short pause. "I've got an idea."

He frowned, wondering what she could possibly be up to, but obligingly pressed the button anyway. "Got it," he said.

"Okay," came Phoebe's voice. "I wrote a Lost and Found spell about a year and a half ago…if I just tweak it a little, it should find the keys for you."

He could have kicked himself. His host of demonic powers was gone, but he was a witch now—he should have thought of using magic instead of driving himself crazy trying to do things the mortal way. "Sounds great," he said. "Hit it."

There was a brief pause; then Phoebe chanted:

"_Guiding spirits, Cole asks your charity;  
Lend him your focus and clarity,  
Lead him to the car keys he can't find.  
Restore them, and his peace of mind."_

Glancing around the room, he still didn't see any keys. "Does it take long to work?"

"Give it a minute," Phoebe said. "It should work fine, especially since I made sure to restrict it to just the car keys." She chuckled. "We learned the hard way to be careful with that spell. If you're not specific, it'll return everything you've _ever_ lost."

In more than a century of living, he'd probably lost more things than he could imagine. The thought of having them all suddenly return was alarming. "You're sure it'll only find the keys?"

"Positive," Phoebe said confidently. "See you in a few." She hung up.

Returning the phone to its cradle, he went back to the business of finding the keys. With Phoebe's spell to help, they showed up conveniently in the kitchen, on the counter next to the microwave. "Thank you, Phoebe," he said to himself as he pocketed them.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up in front of Halliwell Manor and knocked on the front door, noting the unfamiliarity of the gesture. In the past, he'd just shimmer right in, usually without any kind of notice. _That used to drive Piper nuts._

"Coming!" he heard Phoebe call. Quick footsteps pounded down the stairs, and a key turned in the lock before she eased the door open and ushered him in, then closed and locked it behind him. "Hi," she greeted him.

"Hi," he returned, unsure of what to do. When they'd been together before, the standard greeting had been an embrace and a passionate kiss, but he didn't know if she'd be comfortable with that, and he didn't want to mess things up before they'd even really started.

Finally, Phoebe closed the distance between them and hugged him, then stood on tiptoe and gave him a chaste kiss. "So," he said when she let him go, "are we setting ground rules now, or just playing it by ear?"

Phoebe was quiet for a moment, pensive, then said, "Before we decide that…I think you should see what changed my mind in the first place." She tilted her head toward the staircase. "Come with me?"

He followed her up the stairs to the attic, where she moved to stand before the lectern that held the Book of Shadows. "Here," she said.

"I don't think so," he said with a laugh. "That book is hazardous to my health. Remember what it did last time I touched it?"

Even if she didn't, he did—vividly. When he'd tried to breach the force field surrounding it, the magical tome's built-in protection system had hit him with a powerful shock, throwing him back against the wall. It was not an experience he had any desire to repeat…he might be an ex-demon, but he was no masochist.

"Yes, but you're not evil now," she said matter-of-factly. "It's not going to hurt you—look." Picking up the book, she strode to his side and, without warning, shoved it into his arms.

Nothing happened. No force field, no shock, no pain, no impact. Quickly, he tightened his grip on it, preventing it from falling to the floor. "This thing weighs a ton!" he complained.

"Nah," Phoebe said with a laugh, sitting down on the old sofa against the side wall and patting the place beside her. "Just about ten pounds."

He took the seat she indicated, setting the book down between them and watching curiously as she turned the heavy parchment pages. "What are we doing with it, anyway?"

"I looked through it a couple of days ago," Phoebe said, still turning pages, "for a way to show you the premonition I had the other night. But none of the memory-type spells really fit the bill, so finally, I found this."

He read the heading of the page open in her lap: To Switch Powers. "Phoebe…shouldn't you just tell me what you saw, and forget about showing me?" Oh, he'd like to see, all right, but her casting anything that affected the Power of Three wasn't going to win him any points with the rest of the family. It would be wiser to wait until they could at least tolerate him again before he made any waves.

"This is special," Phoebe said quietly, her earnest dark eyes holding his gaze. "This, I want you to see."

He glanced down to read the printed words. The spell didn't look all that difficult, but still… "Phoebe, this isn't—my experience with magic is confined to point and shoot. I don't know much about spells and potions."

"You're going to have to learn, you know," she said seriously, looking up from the book. "Now that you're a witch, demons are going to be after you, just like they're always after us."

To kill a demon-turned-witch, especially one in love with a Charmed One, he knew, would be a major coup. And deflection was a highly desirable power—a choice addition to any demon's arsenal. "They were after me long before this," he pointed out. "Not much of a change."

"It is," she contradicted. "You'll be fighting with a different power, and using different tactics. Do you know how to trigger the deflection yet?"

He shook his head, a little frustrated with his lack of progress on that front. "Not for lack of trying, but no. My old trigger doesn't apply, and I haven't figured out the new one." He grinned wryly and tapped the page. "Maybe if we do this, you'll have better luck."

"You'll do it?"

"As long as we switch back right after," he agreed. "Anything that interferes with the Power of Three leaves you and your sisters vulnerable, and besides—I've been a _persona non grata_ with them since…" He trailed off, not wanting to say, 'Since the Source used me to try to turn you evil.'

"I know," she said ruefully. "I think Leo's willing to forgive, and Paige will eventually, but Piper tends to hold a grudge."

Considering what had happened, that was perfectly understandable. "So we just…read this?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Phoebe said. "It's not really complicated, but if we're going to do it, we'd better do it before Piper and Leo get back." At his questioning look, she said wryly, "Another one of those cases of forgetting to read the nonexistent fine print first. If you cast it with other people in the house, it switches everyone's powers around, not just the casters'."

He could see why she'd want to avoid that. They were probably going to get in enough trouble for this without throwing in additional complications. "Now?"

She nodded, and they read together:

"_What's mine is yours; what's yours is mine,  
Let our powers cross the line.  
I offer up my gift to share,  
Switch our powers through the air."_

For a moment, nothing happened; then he felt a strong sort of…pull…deep inside him as his power rose upward. It wasn't painful, exactly, but it was definitely strange. There was a sudden wave of dizziness, and he looked up to find identical spheres of sparkling white light hovering over his head and Phoebe's.

He smiled widely: his magic was white, not black—one more indicant of his newfound unadulterated goodness. Slowly, the spheres rotated, Phoebe's moving to hover over him and his over her, and then sank low, vanishing into their bodies. He felt a rush of warmth as the new power settled, then turned to face the other witch. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Phoebe said, though she looked slightly disoriented herself. She shook her head as though to clear it, then extended her arm, reaching toward him. "Here—give me your hand."

He entwined his fingers with hers, a spark rushing between them where their palms touched, and watched as white light pooled between their hands. "Now what do I do?"

"Close your eyes," she said.

He felt a little silly, but obeyed her.

"Concentrate." Her voice was soft. "The two of us together…lots of flowers…music playing in the living room…can you see?"

His brow furrowed. There were no images yet—just darkness, still and unchanging—but he could almost hear something, very faintly, like the ghost of a half-forgotten memory. It sounded like… "Canon in D?" he said in surprise, opening his eyes and holding hers. There was only one occasion that music would be played for. "Is this—"

"Stay with it," she said, her face kept carefully blank. "Relax."

He closed his eyes again, more tightly this time, and searched for the illusive vision. _A wedding,_ he thought as the familiar strains of music began, low at first, but swiftly swelling in a crescendo. _The two of us—_

There was a sudden jolt, like electricity arcing through him, and involuntarily, he drew a quick, sharp breath. Then, all at once, color flashed into his vision and he was not only hearing, but seeing, too, bobbing like a toy amidst waves of images and sounds.

_Flash!_ The family is gathered around them, Paige and Piper and Leo, the last holding a baby in his arms, speaking softly. Penny Halliwell, dressed in ceremonial robes, is presiding over the wedding, and he and Phoebe are standing in front of the altar, she in a gorgeous white gown and he in a tuxedo. Their faces are radiant, their eyes shining. He is holding her hand, and their wrists are bound loosely with a silver cord.

"Heart to thee, body to thee, always and forever; so mote it be," they say together, and he leans forward to capture her lips in a tender kiss.

He feels a pang of regret, thinking that this is how it should have been in the first place. If he had only been able to tell Phoebe what had happened when the Source had first possessed him, they would have been married long ago, and most likely expecting a child.

_Flash!_ They are alone in Phoebe's bedroom. Her hand is resting on her abdomen, as he has often seen Piper's do, and her face is full of wonder. "Cole…I'm pregnant," she says quietly, as though she can hardly believe it herself. "We're going to have a baby."

He watches his face register amazement, then disbelief, and finally settle on joy. Pulling her to him in a fierce embrace, he gives her a kiss that leaves them both flushed and short of breath.

_This can be,_ he thinks to himself, watching them with almost painful longing. _We can have this. We _will They have a long way to go before she will allow marriage, let alone intimacy. Still, it gives him hope, and he wishes that this moment would not end, that it could be reality when the illusion shatters. That it could be so easy to reclaim the perfect love and trust they once shared.

_Flash!_ Phoebe is lying in bed, her damp hair splayed over the pillow in a dark halo, her belly swollen with pregnancy, and her face, red and shining with perspiration, contorted in pain. He is standing at her side, his hand crushed in both of hers. "One more big push, honey," Piper says encouragingly, kneeling between her spread legs. "Come on, you can do it!"

Phoebe draws a deep, shuddering breath, then groans loudly and bears down. He sees himself grimace in discomfort as her grip on his hand tightens.

Piper suctions out the baby's nose and mouth, and the beautiful sound of an infant's squalling fills the room. "Congratulations; you have a girl," she says, cutting the umbilical cord before setting her in Phoebe's outstretched arms.

He cannot look at them both enough. Phoebe has never been more beautiful to him, and this child, this perfect, angelic little creature…he can hardly believe that she will be his; that he could possibly contribute to the creation of anything so pure and innocent…

He came out of the premonition suddenly, opening his eyes and reeling backward against the sofa cushions, his breath coming in ragged gasps. _Phoebe's power,_ he thought distantly, _packs one hell of a punch._ He felt as though something heavy had just hit him in the head, and his ears were ringing, but what he'd seen more than made up for it.

"Cole?" Her voice broke into his scattered thoughts, steadying him. "Are you okay?"

He paused for a moment before answering, catching his breath and allowing the tension to leave his body. "Better than okay," he said finally. "That was...really incredible."

"They're not all like that, believe me," she said dryly. "I don't usually get premonitions of my own future—most of them involve Innocents being killed."

That was a sobering thought. "You don't really control when you get them, do you?" he asked her. "Just now, I felt more like the premonition was having _me_ than the other way around."

"It can happen like that," she admitted, grinning wryly. "Sometimes I can choose to have a premonition, but it took a long time and a lot of practice to get even a little control over them. Usually, I'm just going about my business, I touch something, and I get blindsided and pulled in."

_She's not kidding,_ he thought, releasing her hand and reaching up to massage his temples. "That was more violent than I expected it would be," he said. "It wasn't the seeing, but the physical effects…"

"Lack of experience," she said sympathetically. "My first couple of premonitions were like that—not much fun, is it?" She chuckled. "By comparison, learning how to control the levitation was a piece of cake, even if the landings were a little rough at first. Do you want an aspirin or something?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Here, we'd better—" He broke off, hearing a key turn in the lock downstairs. _Piper and Leo must be back early,_ he thought. _Paige would've orbed._ "Should we reverse the spell now? Before they get up here?"

Phoebe shook her head. "We're busted—we can't reverse it with Piper and Leo in the house unless we want a repeat of supernatural Freaky Friday."

He'd known this idea would come back to bite them. Still… "It shouldn't be a big deal," he said. "You can just ask them to step outside for a minute; then we can do it with no problems."

"Yeah, in theory," Phoebe said. "The only thing is that Piper's going to view your being here as a pretty big problem by itself—"

Footsteps on the stairs. The doorknob turned, and Leo stepped into the attic, followed closely by Piper. "Phoebe? I can't wait to show you the new clothes we bought for the baby…" She trailed off as she noticed him, her happy expression instantly vanishing. "What the hell is _he_ doing here?" she demanded, pinning him with a Glare of Death. "And _why_ is he touching the Book of Shadows? Evil is not allowed to touch the Book of Shadows!"

"I told you last night," he said evenly, "that I'm _not_ evil. Remember?" He tapped his wrist, where the mark was still evident, and then pointedly set his hand down on the open page. "Hence the lack of electrocution."

"The Book's been fooled before," Piper said, unconvinced.

"Piper, even when Cole _was_ demonic, he wasn't interested in the Book," Phoebe pointed out. "Not for long, anyway. And if you're going to get mad at anyone, it should be me, not him. _I_ was the one who invited him here, and using the Book of Shadows was _my_ idea, not his."

"Using it for what?" Piper was at Phoebe's side in several quick strides, looking over her shoulder at the spell. "Switching powers?" she said incredulously. "Phoebe, you shouldn't be using that spell _at all_, never mind with him! What were you thinking?"

"She wanted me to see one of her premonitions, that's all," Cole said, holding Piper's gaze. "We were just about to reverse it when you came in."

"And then you weren't going to tell us you'd done it in the first place, right?" Piper said angrily. "Phoebe, _what_ is wrong with you? I thought you said you were over him!"

She shrugged helplessly, offering her sister a falsely bright grin. "Things change," she said. "I thought I was…I tried to be…but I'm not." Fidgeting a little under Piper's icy stare, she said, "Could you just go outside for a minute so we can reverse the spell without switching everyone around? Then we can talk about this."

"Yes," Piper said, narrowing her eyes. "We can talk about, oh, what you saw that was so important you decided to mess with the Power of Three, and then we can talk about how you knew he had powers and didn't tell us!"

Leo quietly took Piper's hand and orbed out, leaving them alone in the attic.

"That could have gone better," Cole said wryly, shifting to look at Phoebe. "I'm guessing that you didn't tell your family you were thinking of getting involved with me again?"

"Not Paige or Piper, anyway," she said. "I told Leo about the premonition, you know, under the Whitelighter/witch confidentiality thing, but not about any…involvement. I didn't actually decide about that until awhile after we talked."

Cole was willing to bet that Leo had said some things in his favor that might have affected Phoebe's decision, and made a mental note to buy the coming baby a _very_ nice gift by way of appreciation. "Okay," he said, taking her hand again. "Come on. We should reverse this spell before the next eruption of Mount St. Piper."

They read the spell a second time, and the transfer repeated itself, returning his power to him and Phoebe's to her. Sighing, she shut the Book of Shadows and rose, replacing it on the lectern. "Our relationship is going to get serious again eventually, even if it isn't now," she said finally as she sat back down beside him.

"Isn't it?" he asked her. He knew it wasn't yet, but he wanted to know where she thought things stood.

"I don't think it is," she said, shaking her head. "Or at least, it's not the way it was. Neither of us is sure how to handle…everything that's happened. You're waiting for cues from me, but I don't know what to do either, and it ends up being awkward."

That was true. He wasn't sure how she wanted him to act, how much contact she would allow, or even what he was supposed to be to her now. Just a lover? Or were they skipping right to fiancé? "We can't just pretend it didn't happen," he said, not needing to elaborate on what he meant. "Things have obviously changed since we were engaged."

Phoebe nodded. "We were both hurt. We can agree to put it behind us, but we can't just forget it." There was a short pause, then she scooted a little closer to him. "We have some time on the marriage thing," she said. "Wyatt must have been at least a month in that premonition—"

"Wyatt?"

"Didn't you notice the baby was wearing a little tuxedo?" Phoebe grinned. "Or weren't you paying attention? Little Prudence Melinda is just not to be. Piper's carrying a boy."

Actually, he had not noticed, having no eyes for anyone but Phoebe, but he had to laugh at that: wouldn't Piper be surprised when her son was born, since she was expecting a daughter? And knowing her, she'd probably already gone out and bought all the paraphernalia appropriate for a girl… "I guess you heard Leo talking to him, and that's how you picked up the name?" There had been too much for him to take in completely during those few fleeting moments, but Phoebe had long practice and knew what to watch and listen for.

She nodded, smiling reminiscently. "Yeah. I admit, though, I'm only guessing on the timeframe. It could be two or three months off, not counting what's left of Piper's third trimester."

"So we can take it slow," he surmised, steering the conversation away from her sister's soon-to-be offspring. "Get used to each other again."

Frankly, he was more or less ready to pick up where they'd left off, but if she wanted an adjustment period, especially after what she'd been through, she was more than entitled.

"Is that what you want?" Phoebe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I want whatever you want," he answered. Anything, as long as she was comfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her again, to endanger that blissful future.

"You're sweet," she murmured, leaning a little closer and tilting her head up in invitation, her eyes half-lidded and her lips parted slightly. "Let's just…start here and see where it goes…"

Depending on how far they let this go, the attic might not be the best location, but he decided it didn't really matter. He drew her close, intending to make up for the less-than-stellar kiss at the door—in spades, if she'd let him—but just then, orb-lights glittered in his peripheral vision.

"That's more than long enough," came Piper's voice, a little calmer now than it had been. "Now, we'll—" She broke off abruptly. "_What_ are you doing?"

At that moment, he didn't like Piper Halliwell much better than she liked him. _Dammit!_

_A/N: This is the longest chapter so far, and posted ahead of schedule (I meant it when I said reviews equaled faster updates, so please don't forget to continue sending me feedback—I sincerely appreciate it, and nothing else is a better motivator). I hope you liked the latest installment—i.e., that it was as enjoyable for you to read as it was for me to write!_


	4. The Rules Have Changed

Her sister, Phoebe decided as Cole let her go and pulled quickly back, had the world's worst timing. Either that, or she'd barged in on them on purpose.

_For her sake, she'd better not have,_ Phoebe thought with a frown. She knew Cole, and if that look in his eyes had been anything to judge by, Piper had interrupted what would have been a _really_ amazing kiss.

She missed kissing him.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" he groused, sounding no happier about the intrusion than Phoebe was. "I'm sure you can figure it out."

Leo looked a little sheepish. "Sorry," he said. "I wouldn't have orbed in if I'd known you were…" He paused, trying to find a tactful way to say, 'about to make out on the sofa.' "Busy," he finished lamely.

Piper sat down heavily on her other side, a little awkwardly thanks to the baby's extra weight. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything important," she said at last, folding her arms over her swollen belly. "And I'm sorry I yelled at you. You didn't really do anything wrong."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow: _that_ was a drastic change from her previous behavior. Looking up, she exchanged a glance with Leo, who nodded very faintly. From that, she surmised that they'd had a talk while they'd been outside, probably about treating Cole like a human being and not a demon.

"And I owe you an apology," she said, turning to Cole and heaving a sigh. "I shouldn't have treated you like you're still the ultimate evil when all evidence suggests you're not."

"Thanks," Cole said dryly.

"But if you hurt my sister," Piper continued quietly, narrowing her eyes, "I will hunt you down, I will make you wish you were dead, and then I will kill you. Clear?"

"Crystal," Cole said with a nod, holding her gaze. "So, you wanted to talk?" He placed a subtle emphasis on 'talk' that made it clear he meant 'talk' as opposed to 'shout'.

"Yeah," she said flatly. "We'll skip the 'intentions toward Phoebe' part, because I think I've got a pretty clear idea about those. Leo gave me the Cliff Notes version of what happened to you last night, and I'm going to assume it's correct. You have…what power is it?"

"Deflection, apparently," he supplied with a sardonic grin. "I still haven't figured out quite how it works, but at least I don't have to try to adjust to being mortal and holding down a nine-to-five."

Phoebe had to laugh a little, remembering his earliest attempt at rejoining the workforce, when he'd first lost his demonic powers. As a legal aid, he'd been just a little overzealous in the pursuit of justice (that is, overzealous in a way that could easily have resulted in assault charges) and quit even as his supervisor was firing him.

He'd make, she was sure, a much better witch than a mortal. After a hundred and seventeen years as a magic-user, even if that magic had been Dark, he just wasn't cut out for mundane mortal life.

"Okay," Piper said. "Work on that. And Phoebe, make sure he knows how to brew a basic vanquishing potion before the next demon attack. A little practice with writing spells couldn't hurt, either."

Cole caught her eye, tilting his head subtly toward Piper and quirking an eyebrow. The message was clear: "What's going on here?"

Phoebe was a little surprised herself. Leo was an angel—literally—but even he had trouble with Piper when she was in a temper. What had he said that had gotten her to back down so fast?

"Oh, and Cole?" Piper said with a too-bright smile as she got slowly to her feet and moved towards the attic door. "Welcome to the family."

"What?"

Phoebe understood his surprise: an apology was enough in itself, but complete acceptance back into the family simply couldn't be genuine—she hadn't been kidding when she said her older sister had a tendency to hold a grudge.

Cole had hurt her family, whether intentionally or not. Barring a miracle, that would take Piper a long, _long_ time to forgive.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" she said, looking over her shoulder as she went downstairs. "You're moving in."

He was?

"I am?" he echoed, taken aback. "Why?"

It was Leo who answered. "It's typically the Elders' policy to assign witches within the same family the same Whitelighter," he explained, sitting down on the antique rocking chair leaning against the opposite wall. "And because of your relationship with Phoebe, they made you my charge, same as the girls."

Cole gave Leo an appraising look, clearly contemplating the concept of having a Whitelighter. "Fine," he said at last. "I understand. But where is it explained why I'm moving?"

"Logistics," Leo said simply. "When Paige lived in an apartment, it meant I had to spend most of my time there, watching over her in case of an attack. It wasn't convenient—or safe—for me to divide my time between two locations. And now, with the baby due so soon, I can't protect you the way you should be protected and still be there for my child."

"I'm not new to this, Leo," Cole said archly, bristling. "I've been playing this game for over a hundred years. I know the rules."

This just couldn't go easily, could it? The Elders were well within their rights to assign Cole a Whitelighter; chances were he'd need one, whether he wanted to admit it or not. So why couldn't he just accept that it wasn't an attempt to patronize him and try not to buck the system more than necessary? Or at least accept Leo's new role in his life quietly, if only to keep peace in the family?

"You're new to your powers," Leo said reasonably, giving him a 'use your mind' kind of look. "That means the rules have changed—for all the time you spent as a demon, Cole, you're still a nascent witch. That leaves you vulnerable."

"I don't need a babysitter!" Cole shot back. "I'm not—"

"Cole!" Phoebe interrupted, cutting him off. "Look."

He turned to face her, irritation plain in his features. "What?" he said. "I'm trying to explain to him that—"

"Your hands," she said with a smile, gesturing to indicate the bright blue light emanating from his palms. "I'm not sure what you did, but there's your trigger."

He fisted his hands, extinguishing the light. There was a short silence, and then he laughed, his previous agitation seemingly forgotten. "It figures," he said.

"What?" she asked.

"Deflection," he said simply, still a little incredulous. "Of course it'd show up when I feel defensive." Experimentally, he opened his hands again, his brow furrowing in concentration, and Phoebe grinned as the light reappeared, dimly at first, but then stronger.

Cole was a quick study, she noted, impressed. That time, his power had manifested itself on command. _Maybe there really isn't all that much difference between Light and Dark when it comes to controlling your powers. It would make sense, then, for his experience in one to translate into the other._ He'd been a very powerful demon; it stood to reason that he'd also be a very powerful witch, once he'd honed his new skills.

Of course, before he could do that, he was going to have to adjust to a couple of new rules. "No one thinks you're not capable of taking care of yourself," she said to him. "Yeah, you need a little practice with your power, but it's new, and you're learning fast. So what's the matter?"

Cole turned away from Leo and faced her. "I don't want to start going 'how high' when those sanctimonious Elders say 'jump,'" he said. "I'm not opposed to having Leo as my Whitelighter—I know him, and know he's good at what he does. But I resent having major life decisions made for me, and my moving in isn't a good idea."

"Why isn't it?" Leo asked.

"For one thing," Cole said, returning his attention to the other man, "your wife hates me. I'm not saying she doesn't have good reasons, but I'd rather not have to deal with that every day."

"Piper doesn't hate you," Leo said calmly. "She just needs some time to come around. I've spoken to her, and she understands the necessity of your being here."

Partly, Phoebe was sure, because if Cole didn't stay at the manor, Leo couldn't either. But… "This isn't about Piper," she said with certainty. "And I don't think it's about the Elders."

"Leo!" Piper's voice carried up the stairs. "Will you come down here, please?"

Leo stood up. "Let me know what you decide," he said to Cole, and then left the room, shutting the door on his way downstairs.

"Okay," Phoebe said to him, leaning back against the sofa cushions. "We're alone. So…what _is_ this about?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing," he said, in a way that she knew meant it wasn't. "Just…" He paused, then sighed and looked up to meet her eyes. "When I moved in here, if I did," he said quietly, "I didn't want it to be just because the Elders said I had to."

_Oh_. Now she understood. "This is about me."

"This is about _us_," he corrected, reaching forward to cup the side of her face in one warm hand. "Phoebe…are we really at a point where you want me to live with you? Because—let's not kid ourselves—cohabiting like this is going to be pretty much the same as a marriage, whether you're wearing the ring or not."

That was true. Grams' sewing room, the one free room in the house, was now set up as a nursery for the baby, and it would be unrealistic, long-term, to expect him to live out of a suitcase and sleep on the sofa.

Which left her bedroom.

She could see his point.

"I love you," she began, and reached up to place her hand over his. "I want you to be safe."

Cole nodded. "I know that," he said quietly, drawing his hand back and letting it fall to his lap. "But do you want to share a house with me? Because if you want space—I don't want to rush this and force you into anything you aren't ready for. I made that mistake once and nearly lost you."

And there was the crux of the issue: _was_ she ready for this? She loved him. She wanted things to work out between them. She wanted to be able to tell him that it was completely all right.

_But that would be a lie, wouldn't it?_ she realized. She wasn't ready for anything like marriage yet, because she was, in her heart of hearts, still a little uncomfortable. She needed to get to know Cole as a man again before she could live with him, let alone marry him.

She needed to know him well enough that she could forget seeing the Source in his eyes and hearing its menace in his voice. Because even though she knew Cole was good, and that he loved her and would never purposely hurt her, she also knew that her trust in him had been damaged by what had happened. Not irreparably, but damaged just the same.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he just nodded. "It's okay," he said. "I understand." Leaning forward, he kissed her—not heatedly, as he might have before Piper and Leo had orbed in, but gently, tenderly. "I'll wait as long as you need. You're worth waiting for."

She didn't want him to think she didn't trust him. She was just harboring an irrational fear: Cole was not the Source. They could live together without problems. "But—"

He set a finger to her lips, cutting her off. "Phoebe, I hurt you—"

"The Source hurt me," she protested, not moving away from him. "Not you. I should just be able to let it go—"

He shook his head, smiling sadly, and pulled back. "It doesn't work like that, and you know it. The Source used _me_ to hurt you. My voice, my hands, my body. And I know, when you look at me, that you remember that, and that it makes you…" He paused, searching for an appropriate word, and finally settled on understatement. "Nervous."

"It shouldn't," she said.

"But it does," he pointed out quietly. "You can try to make yourself forget it—and sometimes you can almost succeed—but every now and then, it comes back to you, and it bothers you. A lot."

Her cheeks burned with shame: he knew her too well. Looking away from him, she turned towards the attic window, watching dust motes drift lazily through the sunbeams that shone through the stained glass. "It wasn't you," she repeated. "You would never hurt me like that."

"But we aren't where we were," he said, and she felt his gaze on her. "And rebuilding what we used to have will take time. If we just force it—that's not what it should be, Phoebe. That's not what either of us wants it to be." She felt his weight shift as he rose. "I'm not going to disappear on you—I'll visit; I'll call. We'll start from the beginning. But I can't just move in with you when part of you is still afraid of me."

She watched him walk towards the attic door, silent.

"I can't do that to you," he said, almost too quietly for her to hear. "And I can't do it to myself, either."

_A/N: And that's it until next Thursday (barring significant reader response). Yes, I know this isn't going to be a popular place to end, but what I'm trying to go for is _realism_. They'll have happily-ever-after, but it's going to take effort (and many more chapters) to get there. And please, _please_ review! I derive hours of happiness from the five minutes it takes you to tell me even one specific thing you enjoyed about the story—I'm not asking for an essay, just acknowledgement that I'm doing a sufficiently good job on this that you care enough to give me some feedback._


	5. Welcome to the Family

He knew he had made the right decision, if not the easy one, when he left Phoebe in the attic and returned downstairs. As much as he wished that he could simply erase the damage that last few months had done, the only way they could ever be happy together was by accepting everything that had passed between them, good and bad.

And for Phoebe, the wounds the Source had inflicted were still too raw. They would have to heal before she could trust him as completely as she had in the past.

He found Leo and Piper in the conservatory, surrounded by bags of assorted baby gear. The clothes peeking out of the packages, he noticed, were pastel blue, not pink. The Whitelighter, he supposed, had informed his wife that their little bundle of joy was male.

"Hey," he said, knocking on the doorframe. Leo turned away from Piper and looked up at him. "Is this a bad time?"

Piper looked a little annoyed at the interruption, but Leo shook his head. "We're not doing anything that can't wait a few minutes," he said, and indicated the empty chair next to the sofa. "Do you want to come in?"

"No," he said. "I just came down to tell you that I can't stay here until Phoebe and I have worked some issues out, and that's not something we can do overnight."

"You're sure?" Piper asked him, raising an eyebrow. "Because, you know, you looked pretty comfortable together when we orbed in on you."

"That was a spur-of-the-moment thing," he said, keeping his voice deliberately even. "But that's not the point. Emotionally, she's not comfortable enough with me for me to stay here."

Leo nodded, accepting his decision. "All right," he said. "I understand. If you need me—"

"Yes, I know," he broke in, raising a staying hand. "You don't need to give me the Whitelighter tutorial; I've heard Phoebe yelling 'Leo! Leo! Leo!' more than often enough."

Piper scowled. "You'd better have a real emergency if you call him," she said tightly, folding her hands in her lap as though she was fighting the urge to either freeze him or blow him up. "Because when you do, you're taking him away from his family."

"Piper." Leo's voice was gently reproving. "I have a duty to all of my charges. And that has to come first, even though you—and the baby—will always be a very high priority."

Leo was a very good man, he reflected. So good, in fact, that he sometimes got on Cole's nerves. "Don't worry," he said dryly to Piper. "I won't interfere with your marital bliss unless my life is on the line."

"If you ever have any kind of problem," Leo said, "you should let me know."

Cole managed not to roll his eyes. It wasn't Leo's fault that he was hopelessly devoted to his job. "Right, you live to counsel. Got it." If he had problems he couldn't solve on his own, though, he would be taking them to Phoebe, not Leo, Whitelighter/witch confidentiality aside. "So, if that's all, I'll just say goodbye to Phoebe and go."

Leo nodded. "And I'll orb Up There to let the Elders know I'll be working with you off-site." He leaned over, kissed Piper goodbye, and vanished in a flurry of blue-white lights.

"You're sure you won't change your mind?" Piper asked, picking up one of the bags and beginning to remove and fold the tiny outfits. "Phoebe may have some issues, but they can't be that seri—"

"You really don't understand, do you?" he cut in, his temper flaring. "She has _issues_ because the Source of All Evil used my love for her to exploit her while we were married! It couldn't get rid of it, so it used it as a tool, and while it did that, it _hurt_ her."

"And how do we know you didn't have any control?" Piper challenged, her eyes flashing. "That you weren't just manipulating her, so you could have her and the Source's power into the bargain?"

_Control,_ he told himself._ You must _not_ start a fight with Phoebe's family. It will only make reconciling with Phoebe more difficult._ "You've been possessed, Piper," he said coldly, schooling his features into blankness. "Just how much control do you think I had?"

The fight went out of her then, and she looked down, away from him. She knew what possession was, what it did. Knew that the time he had spent under the Source's control had been a slow death. "None," she said, and her voice was nearly a whisper. Then, more loudly, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"Look," he said with a sigh, entering the room and dropping heavily down onto the chair Leo had previously offered him, "I know you don't trust me. You may never trust me again, and after what I've done, I'm not about to blame you. But I love Phoebe. You can't deny that. No matter what I've been—human, demon, or half-and-half—I've always loved her. And I will _never_ purposely do anything to hurt her."

Piper was quiet for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Leo told me about her premonition," she said quietly. "Or at least dropped a hint, after I wheedled it out of him. And I'm trying to give you a chance, because if it's right, you're going to really be part of us. But you know me—I never forget, and I rarely forgive."

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness," he said simply, and rose. "It's more than I have any right to expect. I'm just asking you to tolerate me and be civil. That's it."

"Fine," she said. Standing, she reached out and gave his hand a quick, firm shake. "For Phoebe's sake, we'll get along."

Orb-lights appeared in the room, and a moment later, Leo emerged, bearing a large suitcase, which he set down on the floor at Cole's feet.

"Are you going somewhere?" Cole asked him, raising an eyebrow. "Or do you orb in with this much luggage all the time?"

Leo sighed and plopped down onto the sofa next to Piper. "Sorry I took so long," he apologized. "The Elders just wanted me to swing by your apartment—they'd already sent someone to do your packing—"

Cole stared at the bag. "The _Elders_ sent someone to my _apartment_?" he asked, disbelieving and not a little outraged at this invasion of his home. "What for? I thought you said it wouldn't be a problem for me to live at home—"

"And I didn't think it would be," Leo said levelly. "But with the baby on the way—"

"The baby is perfectly fine where he is for seven more weeks!" Cole said, indicating Piper's bulging abdomen. "So isn't it just a _little_ early for him to be having any repercussions on _my_ life?"

"No," Leo said heavily, and turned his attention to Piper. "Honey…while I was Up There, the Elders warned me he'd probably be a little premature…"

Piper tensed, reaching down to fold her arms protectively over the swell of the baby. "How premature, Leo?" she said through clenched teeth. "And _why_ didn't they let us know before this?"

Ignoring her second question, Leo said quietly, "They're expecting him to be born on Imbolc."

"The second of _February_?" Piper nearly shrieked, surging to her feet more quickly than Cole had thought she would still be physically capable of. "That's just a week away, and they're telling me _now_?"

"Piper…" Leo said helplessly.

"Don't 'Piper' me!" she snapped. "Our baby is going to be a more than a month early, and on top of that," she added, pointing at Cole, "I have no idea what we're going to do with Phoebe's…whatever he is!"

"Well, you don't need to worry on my account," Cole assured her, hefting the suitcase into his arms. "I'm just going to load this into my car, take it home, and stay out of your way."

Leo looked uncomfortable. "Actually, Cole…you're going to have to stay here until further notice. The Elders—"

"Do not _own_ me," Cole interrupted coolly, narrowing his eyes. "I chose my side. But I will not arrange my life according to their whims, _especially_ not at the risk of endangering my relationship with Phoebe. I literally went to hell and back for a second chance with her, and I'm not going to risk it on their say-so."

"It's not a matter of what they want," Leo said, now with a slight edge in his tone and tension evident in every line of his frame. "It's a matter of your safety. I have orders to stay here until after the baby is born, but I can't leave you alone, either. There will _be _no future for you if you go off on your own and get killed."

"So tell them to assign someone else until the baby's safely delivered!" he said, finally realizing that this was likely to be a protracted discussion and setting his things heavily down. "Leo, I'm not asking you to neglect your son. I can get along just fine with one of your friends watching my back—it doesn't have to be you, and it especially doesn't have to be _here_."

"Normally, it wouldn't have to be," Leo agreed, deadpan. "But my colleagues Up There are all balking at the idea of taking on an ex-demon as a charge. That makes you my responsibility, if only because I'm the only one willing to deal with you."

_Of course, _he thought bitterly. _None of them trust me, either. _So "responsibility" for him fell to Leo, who, with his wife and soon-to-be half-witch child, undoubtedly had a reputation for being particularly liberal.

"And how long will it take to work this out?" he demanded.

"The Elders are contacting one of the lesser Angels of Destiny," Leo explained. "He or she will get in touch with one of the greater Angels, who should eventually liaise with them on your behalf, after getting approval and orders from Light Magic."

_One reason to prefer the Source to the Elders,_ he noted, not without some disgust. _Dictatorships move _much _faster than bureaucracies._ "And this will take how long?" he pressed.

"Time moves differently Up There," Leo said, looking uncomfortable again. "And the rate it moves at can fluctuate, depending on what the conditions are."

Cole had a distinct feeling that he wasn't going to like whatever the Whitelighter said next. "Well?"

"If everything is ideal, it could be a few days," Leo said. "However, we're probably talking in terms of weeks…or months."

_"Months?"_ Cole and Piper shouted together, for once in perfect agreement.

_If I still had my demonic powers,_ he thought absently, _this would be when I'd start hurling energy balls and blowing things up._ "I can't live here for months," he said tightly.

"You'll have to stay until the Elders send word and say you can go," Leo said. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like it, but it's not my call." He turned to his wife. "Can we set up a bed somewhere?"

Piper was silent for a long moment, thinking. "I think Grams had a spare mattress stowed in the attic," she said at last, "but the only place to put it where it won't get in the way is the nursery, and he obviously can't stay there."

_Damn right I can't stay there._ Sharing a room with a newborn would not be conducive to getting any sleep. "And if the Elders still haven't pushed all the right cosmic paperwork through when the baby's born, then what?" he asked.

"We'll think of something," Leo said evasively, which meant he had no idea. "Maybe you should go tell Phoebe your plans have changed?" he suggested, rising. "I'm sure she'd be glad to help you unpack while I go find that mattress."

Telling Phoebe was the last thing he wanted to do, but he would have to do it sooner or later. Resigned, he left the room and climbed the stairs to the second floor, knocking on Phoebe's bedroom door. "Phoebe?"

"Cole?" She sounded surprised that he was still there. He heard her pad across the room; then she opened the door and came to join him in the hallway. "I thought you'd left." Concern now. "Is everything okay?"

"The Elders," he informed her matter-of-factly, "are a pain in the ass." Sighing, he went on to explain what Leo had told him. "So I could be here for a couple of days," he finished, "or a couple of months. Piper's agreed to let me have a mattress in the nursery until the baby's born, and hopefully, by then, we can work something out."

Phoebe brought a hand to her mouth, but couldn't quite stifle the giggle that escaped her.

"What's funny?" he asked. "Something I said?"

"I was just thinking," Phoebe said with a grin, obviously still suppressing laughter, "how silly you're going to look, sleeping in a room with little pastel teddy bears and bunnies."

"Don't remind me," he said, shaking his head. Still, this was better than many possible alternative reactions. He'd almost expected her to be horrified. "Are you really okay with this?" he asked after a moment.

"Cole." She reached forward and clasped his hands in hers. "I love you," she said softly. "We have a lot to work out, but I love you. And I'm _not_ afraid of you."

That was true. In all their long and convoluted history, she had shown him hurt, shock, betrayal, even rage—but never fear. She had never been afraid of him, even in his demonic shape. "You were afraid of the Source," he reminded her. "And when you look at me, I don't want you to see—"

"I don't!" she cut in, almost sharply. Then her voice gentled again. "You were right; I can't help but remember what happened, but I know you're not the Source. And you would never have chosen to be. You _didn't_ choose to be."

No, he hadn't. The Seer had manipulated him expertly, and he hadn't suspected what was really going on until the Source had already established its stranglehold on his soul. "We're going to have to talk about it eventually," he said quietly. "What happened to me, and to you. To us."

"I know," she acknowledged with a nod. "But not now. Not tonight."

"No," he agreed. He didn't want to pour salt into open wounds. "Neither of us is ready for that." He drew back a little, and she released his hands. "I'll keep my distance, if that's what you want," he said.

She shook her head. "Avoiding each other isn't going to help," she said. "Besides, it's a little hard to stay away from someone you're living with—believe me, I know," she added with a laugh. "I could never stay mad at Prue or Piper when we were little, because I had to be around them so much. It just wasn't worth the energy."

He didn't have any experience with sibling rivalries, having been an only child and raised in the Underworld since he was a toddler. There, the standard _modus operandi_ was simply to blow up a disagreeable companion. "I'll take your word for it," he said, half-smiling. "But I mean it—if there're any kind of limits you want to set—"

"You don't need to treat me like glass, Cole," Phoebe cut in, sounding a little exasperated. "When I said, 'one more chance', that didn't mean 'breathe on me wrong and I'll shove you out of my life.'" She paused for a moment, then softened. "We know where we're going; I think we know how to get there. So stop worrying about us—we're going to be okay. I wouldn't have had that premonition if we weren't."

He released a long breath. This wasn't something he wanted to ask, but it had to be asked nonetheless, if only for his own peace of mind. "Phoebe," he began, "are you sure you aren't just trying to make your premonition come true?"

She looked stung, and was silent for a long moment before speaking again. "After the way I treated you the last couple of weeks," she said ruefully, "I guess I deserved that. But no, I'm not just giving you another chance because of the premonition. It gave me the confidence to try again, but it wasn't why I did."

He was about to reply when he noticed the gold band nestled in the hollow of her throat, suspended on a short chain. And while he would definitely prefer it on her finger, it was encouraging to see her wearing it at all, so he wasn't terribly disappointed.

Phoebe followed his gaze to the ring and half-smiled, looking a little sheepish. "I'm not ready to wear it the way I used to," she explained, "but it didn't feel right to just leave it in a drawer." Reaching back, she shut her bedroom door and turned towards the attic stairs. "Come on. Let's go see if we can help Leo."

_A/N: Decided to post early in light of reader response and in honor of my thousandth hit (a personal best—I'm flattered so many people consider this story worth reading)! You all know the drill by now—I love reader feedback, so please take five minutes to write a few sentences telling me something specific you liked. It won't take you long, and it'll make me unimaginably happy._


	6. Possession

"Are you sure you don't want my help with that?" Phoebe said dubiously, once she, Leo and Cole finally managed to unearth the dusty twin mattress from behind a couple of decades' worth of old junk. "It looks heavy, and it'll be awkward enough trying to get it down the stairs…"

Even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew she'd said the wrong thing. Both men would probably think she'd meant to imply that they weren't strong enough to handle the weight. Really, though, she just didn't want them to hurt themselves. "I mean, Leo, can't you just orb it into the nursery?"

"Not a bad idea," Leo admitted after a moment. Orb-lights flashed as he gripped the mattress firmly with both hands and vanished.

"Doesn't that fit under the 'magic for personal gain' clause?" Cole asked her as she began to put all the things they'd moved back where they belonged.

She shrugged and dusted off her hands. The rest of the mess could be cleaned up later, after Cole was settled in. "He wouldn't have done it if it did—and the Elders should be okay with it. After all, he did bring your stuff here the same way. Come on. There should be clean sheets and a blanket in the linen closet."

Downstairs, she located them and helped Cole make his bed. "Sorry we don't have a bedstead to go with this," she said apologetically as they wrestled the fitted sheet over the corners of the mattress. "We used to, but I think it was smashed in a demon attack a couple of years ago."

"Just another ordinary day in Halliwell Manor," he said sardonically, stuffing a pillow into its case as she spread a second sheet and a blanket over the bed.

"Will you be warm enough?" she asked, standing up and appraising the bed with a critical eye. It looked all right, for what it was. "Or should I find a quilt?"

He shook his head and rose. "This is fine."

She felt like pointing out that it probably wasn't, as it was, after all, January, and the manor wasn't immune to the occasional draft. But then, if he needed another blanket, he'd either let her know or get it himself. "If you say so," she conceded, and glanced down at her watch. "Paige should be back any time now," she noted. "The Elders wanted her for some kind of Whitelighter business, but it shouldn't take much longer."

Cole did not look like he was looking forward to Paige's return. "And did anyone tell her about my being here? About the possibility of us together? Because Piper didn't take it well, and I don't think Paige will, either."

She might…or she might not. "As long as you're human, Paige doesn't think you're evil, remember?" she offered, reassuring them both. "She's not going to explode like Piper did."

He didn't look convinced, but finally sighed and nodded. "If I could get Piper to agree to a cease-fire, I can do the same with Paige."

_Sometime, I'm going to have to ask him how he managed to do that,_ she thought, mildly impressed. Piper was only slightly more tolerant of Cole now than Prue had been.

"Leo!" Paige's shout carried from the kitchen. "Why didn't you tell me the Elders had no intention of giving me a real charge?"

A slow smile spread over Cole's face. "On second thought," he said rhetorically, sinking back down to sit on the bed, "I don't think Paige is going to care much about me right now, one way or the other."

She shot him a 'that's not the point' look and hurried downstairs. Her role as the middle sister was to mediate and advise, and it sounded like Paige was in desperate need of some calming down.

"I don't care if you were 'sworn to secrecy'!" she heard Paige snap as she neared the kitchen door. "If your bosses want to use me like some glorified bloodhound, I should be the first to know!"

"Honey, what's wrong?" Phoebe asked, her, sliding into a chair.

Piper, sitting next to Paige with one hand on her youngest sister's shoulder, looked disgusted. "The Elders _conveniently_ neglected to tell her that the 'charge' they promised her was actually her biological father, and that they only needed her to put him back on their radar."

"Sam?" Phoebe asked, just to be sure she had the facts straight. "Mom's Whitelighter? I thought he was dead."

Piper shook her head. "Apparently, he didn't actually get to the Afterlife, because the Elders just went and made him a Whitelighter again."

"Anyway, I sensed him, we talked a little, I orbed him Up There, and then I orbed out," Paige said shortly, taking over. "Now that they've got him, he's their problem, not mine. Let them deal with him."

"Paige, maybe the Elders—" Phoebe began, but was cut off as the doorbell rang.

"I've got it!" Cole called down. A minute later, she heard his footsteps on the stairs.

Paige looked up just as he passed the kitchen, the outrage on her face changing to surprise. "Was that Cole?" she demanded. "What's he doing here?"

"I'll explain later," Phoebe said hastily, getting up and leaving the kitchen to join Cole at the front door. He'd already opened it, revealing Darryl Morris on the front step, holding a case folder.

"Darryl?" she asked, ushering him in and calling over her shoulder for Paige and Piper. "What's wrong?"

Darryl's attention, however, had shifted to Cole. "What's he doing here?" he asked Phoebe.

"Short version? We're giving the relationship another shot," Cole said shortly, obviously annoyed at being suspected of evil yet again. "Longer version? The Elders are making me live here because Leo's fellow Whitelighters don't want anything to do with an ex-demon. Note the 'ex.'"

"As long as it's okay with you," Darryl said to Phoebe with a shrug, handing over the folder. "Anyway, I've got bigger problems. I think a witch was murdered today, and the M.O.'s consistent with four murders in other cities."

Phoebe paged the folder open and looked through the papers, Paige and Piper looking over her shoulders.

"Are you sure this is demonic?" Piper asked skeptically. "Sure, mummifying the victims is sick, but it could just as easily be the work of some human psychopath."

"Mummifying, you said?" Cole asked with a frown, looking over at Darryl. "That does sound familiar—was there sand by the mummies?"

Darryl nodded. "We got a tip where the perpetrator was, but when we got there, he was gone—all that was left was a little pile of sand on the floor. Funny thing was, everything was locked from the inside. No human could've gotten out."

"Nothing human did," Cole said grimly, reaching for the folder and taking it from her, looking dismayed as he skimmed the information there. "The sand thing is the byproduct of a variation of shimmering—fairly distinctive by itself, but the mummies are a dead giveaway. It sounds like Jeric's come to San Francisco." He paused, considering, then said, half to himself, "That's kind of odd, actually—he usually prefers the Middle East."

"You knew this guy?" Darryl demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"Knew _of_ him, anyway," Cole corrected, passing the folder back to him and turning to Phoebe and her sisters. "He's legendary in demonic circles, since he dates back to ancient Egypt. And if he surfaces again, we'll have to deal with him. But in the meantime," he added, looking back at Darryl, "if they want you to arrest him—don't. It'd be the last thing you'd ever do."

Darryl didn't look pleased about the advice, but elected not to say anything.

"I can swing by the crime scene on my way to the Mirror," Phoebe offered. "See if I can get a premonition. Is forensics done?"

He nodded, a little reluctant. "It may not be the best idea for me to bring you in there—there's a big promotion for me riding on this case, and if I pull the 'psychic assistance' thing again, the higher-ups are going to remember I used to be the resident weirdo."

There was a beat of silence while all of them just stood there and stared at him.

"Fine," he conceded at last, turning around. "I'll do the right thing. Come on, Phoebe; follow me."

"And what about me?" Piper cut in, stepping forward with hands on hips. "If she needs backup—"

"Then Paige can go, but you're not," Darryl finished for her, voice firm. "No amount of smooth talking I can do will convince the other inspectors to let a pregnant woman onto a crime scene."

Piper bristled, eyes flashing. "Well, _this_ pregnant woman happens to be invincible and self-healing," she said tightly.

"And I can't explain that," Darryl said, obviously trying to be patient. "Look, Piper, I understand where you're coming from, but even pregnant cops don't go anywhere near crime scenes—forensic chemicals are too dangerous to the unborn baby. As a mother, you don't want to expose your child to that."

"Fine," Piper huffed. Even if she didn't want to admit it, she knew Darryl was right. "Paige, you go with Phoebe. I'm going to check the Book of Shadows for information on how to vanquish this demon. And _you_," she said, taking Cole's wrist, "are going to come upstairs with me and tell me every single damn thing you know about it."

Cole exchanged a long-suffering glance with Phoebe and submitted to being pulled upstairs. "Be careful," he said.

"I will," she promised, and followed Paige out to her car.

They followed Darryl's squad car, and fifteen minutes later, pulled up at an apartment complex. He led them up to a door monitored by a guard. "They're with me," he said as they signed in. Then, a little sheepishly, "Psychics."

The guard made a face that said very plainly he thought Darryl was a couple of bullets short of a round, but he nodded and let them in.

"You can touch anything you want," he said to her. "Forensics has already been through here. Just let me know if you find anything, and—try to make it quick." He looked down as his pager went off. "Sorry, I have to take this. I'll be right outside."

Paige turned and started to go through cabinets and drawers. "Hey!" she said. "Looks like Darryl was right—look at all this stuff." The cabinet she indicated held an athame, crystals, and herbs that could be used in a variety of potions. "She was definitely a witch. Have you got anything?"

Despite trailing her hands over almost every available surface, "Not yet." A map spread open on the table caught Phoebe's eye. "Scrying," she said, pressing her palm to the paper in hopes of getting a premonition from it. Still nothing. "But for what?"

"There's the crystal," Paige said, and it orbed from the floor and into her outstretched hand. "I think I can retrace the scry at home. Maybe then we can figure out what that witch was looking for."

"But that's evidence!" Phoebe chided her. "We can't just take it!"

"The police won't be able to get anything useful out of it," Paige pointed out as she pocketed the item in question. "We can. We'd be doing them a favor."

"Okay," Phoebe agreed, taking her own now-vibrating pager off her belt and glancing at the screen. "I have to get to work, anyway. Elise wants me to put a few more letters in for tomorrow's column. You can just orb in if you need me, but if it's not an emergency, try to call first."

They left the crime scene together, explaining quickly to Darryl that no, they had not found anything, but they'd call him if something came up. Paige ducked into the nearest deserted room to orb home, and Phoebe headed back to the car.

It wasn't long before she pulled up at the Bay Mirror and eased her car into the usual spot, her mind already on her readers' latest conundrums. _Should I run the 'suffering from unrequited love' piece, or the 'reconciling with the ex after a messy breakup' one?_

She'd just decided on the second when a smug male voice broke into her thoughts. "Great body," he drawled, and she looked up to find an unknown man leaning against the car beside hers. "Mind if I borrow it for a while?"

_A line like that,_ she thought, adrenaline spiking as she tensed to fight, _comes either from a rapist or a possessor demon. Either way, he's getting his ass kicked._ "Yeah, I do," she said sharply, surging forward and bringing up a leg to kick the side of his head.

"Phoebe, no!" she heard Piper shout.

_They must've orbed,_ she realized distantly, even as she tried to pull back.

It was too late. The momentum of her kick carried her irresistibly forward, and she felt the demon's (she was sure it was a demon now) hand close on her ankle, catching it in a grip like a vise.

A rush of hot, dry wind scorched her skin, sand flying everywhere, stinging her eyes, and next thing she knew, she was no longer in the parking lot—or, by the look of things, even in San Francisco. The walls of this new room looked like an Egyptian temple's.

Her ankle was released even as the demon's fist flew at her head.

No time to react.

Impact—pain—then darkness…

_A/N: And the plot thickens! By the way, you've all probably noticed by now that I'm taking some serious liberties with the canon timeline. Chalk it up to creative license, please. Also: I have not gotten a single review for chapter five. Could you perhaps add a comment on chapter five when you review this chapter? Again, I don't need essays (which isn't to say I don't love long reviews, if anyone is so inclined). Just tell me something—anything—you specifically liked, and it'll be enough; all I really want is acknowledgement that people are appreciating the time, effort and energy that are going into writing this._


	7. Back to the Drawing Board

"Dammit!" Cole swore, restlessly pacing the length of the Halliwells' attic. "Have you got anything yet?" he demanded of Paige, who was scrying nearby.

"No," Paige said, watching as the scrying crystal spun over the map in lazy circles. "Either Jeric's got wherever he is heavily cloaked, or she's out of range. What about you?" she asked, looking up at Leo.

"Nothing," Leo said, opening his eyes and throwing up his hands in frustration. "Her signal's completely blocked."

_What good's a Whitelighter that can't sense his charges?_ he thought, but restrained himself from saying it. Getting angry with Leo wouldn't help them find Phoebe.

"Well, keep trying!" Piper ordered, abandoning her place beside the Book of Shadows and leaning over the map, as though by staring at it she could will the crystal in her sister's hand to fall. Finally, she turned away in frustration, her attention returning to her husband. "And you, keep sensing!" she snapped at him. "We've got to find her, fast!"

"If your scrying isn't working, then maybe she's not in San Francisco," Cole suggested, pulling the map off the table. "Jeric might not stay in the area when his home turf is thousands of miles away—try a bigger map. Maybe one of the U.S., to start, and then work up."

"We know what we're doing!" Paige snapped, pulling the map back. "So if you're not going to help, at least try not to get in the way! Jeric's probably got his lover's spirit in Phoebe by now, and her time's running out."

That was true. Possessor-type demons usually tried not to go after more powerful witches, because the more powerful the witch, the quicker her body burned out, overloaded by the invasion.

Phoebe was a Charmed One—one of the three most powerful witches worldwide. She would be lucky to last an hour. "You think that's news to me? Give me that!" he said, taking the scrying crystal out of Paige's hand and pulling an antique globe roughly towards him. "Can I scry with this?"

"We haven't tried it," Piper said, "but theoretically, it should work. Let me."

He yielded to the voice of experience and handed the crystal over. He was new to the witch business, and no matter how simple it looked, his first attempt at scrying should not be during a matter of life and death.

Piper suspended the crystal over the globe, and it began to spin almost immediately in ever-widening circles. "Come on," she said intently. "Come on…"

He reached forward, rotating the globe slowly, and the crystal flew out of Piper's hand, landing with a distinct _click_ on Egypt.

"Okay," Paige conceded, staring incredulously at the spot. "You were right, Cole—that's definitely _not_ anywhere close to home."

"Less talking, more orbing!" Piper said tersely, and before he could say a word, she'd taken Paige's hand, and they'd vanished in a swirl of glittering orb-lights.

Reflexively, he tried to shimmer after them, but his body remained stubbornly where it was. _Right,_ he thought. _I can't do that anymore._ "Leo?" he said, extending his hand expectantly. "Would you mind orbing me to them? Now?"

Leo shook his head. "They have it under control," he said, removing the scrying crystal from the globe and setting it back down on the table. "There's nothing you'll be able to do if I take you there."

He hated to admit it, but the other man was right. As useful as deflection could be, it was not, strictly speaking, a power he could attack an upper-level demon with. His former abilities would have been much better suited to that end. "Does deflection advance into anything with firepower?" he demanded, letting his hand fall back to his side. "Because I am _not_ going to play the waiting game every time they run off and risk their lives!"

He hated feeling so helpless. There had to be something, _anything_, that he could do—

On the sideboard, the cordless phone rang—blessed distraction. He snatched it up and glanced at the screen. _Morris again._ "Morris?" he said, not without a little irritation. "What is it now?"

"The mummy's missing, the coroner's dead, and I'm screwed," Morris said tersely.

"Put him on speakerphone," Leo said.

Cole sighed and did so. "Did you _have_ to let forensics mess with the mummy?" he demanded. "Any lower-level demon with two brain cells would have known not to touch the mummy!"

"Tell that to the coroner," Morris retorted. "Look, they're blaming me for Jeric's escaping in the first place, and if I don't catch him soon, I can kiss that promotion good-bye."

"We have more important things to save right now than your job!" Cole snapped, fed up with the man's self-absorbed little problems. "Phoebe's life, for example!"

Morris' tone changed instantly. "Anything I can do?"

"No," Cole said shortly. Switching the speakerphone off, he shoved the phone into Leo's hand. "You deal with him."

Leo sat down on the sofa and brought the receiver to his ear. "Piper and Paige have it under control…Phoebe will be fine…I think I can do something to help you, but I'll have to break a couple of rules…just give me a few minutes." He ended the call and put the phone down. "When the girls get back, tell them I went to help Darryl. They can call me if they need me." And with that, he orbed out.

"Great," he muttered. "Just perfect."

He did _not_ appreciate being left alone to—

Orb-lights glittered, and Piper and Paige reappeared by the Book, conspicuously sans Phoebe. "What happened?" he demanded. "Couldn't you get through?"

Piper shook her head in frustration, already frantically turning pages with one hand and reaching for an assortment of herbs with the other. "That temple's the magical equivalent of Fort Knox," she said. "Paige tried to orb us in, which didn't work, and then I tried blasting in—I even tapped into the baby's magic for extra firepower. Nothing. So we're going to try bringing her to us." She turned to Paige. "Hand me the rosemary? I've already got the yarrow root and the cypress."

He moved closer and read the heading on the open page: To Call a Lost Witch. He'd seen it cast once—albeit modified—when Piper had been a Fury. "Are you sure this'll work?"

"Feel free to chime in with any ideas you've got if it doesn't," Paige said tersely, grabbing an athame as Piper ground the herbs in a mortar. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Piper said, taking Paige's hand.

"_Powers of the witches rise,  
Course unseen across the skies;  
Come to us who call you near.  
Come to us and settle here."_

He watched as each ran the tip of her left index finger over the blade, opening a cut, and squeezed a few drops of blood into the herbs. _"Blood to blood, I summon thee,"_ they chanted together. _"Blood to blood, return to me."_

One minute passed, then two, and his heart sank. Still no Phoebe.

"That should've worked," Paige complained, wrapping a tissue around her bleeding finger. "Why didn't it?"

"Maybe it didn't work since she's not strictly lost," he suggested. "Or the wards are too strong for the spell to take full effect, or Isis was fighting it. Whatever happened, we need to try something else." He reached forward to turn the book's pages. Already, handling it was becoming second nature. _To call a lover…_ He skimmed that. _Not a true summoning spell; useless…to cast a protective circle…to create a door… _"Do you at least have a backup plan?"

"That _was_ the backup plan!" Piper snapped. Looking up at the ceiling, she called, "If anyone's listening up there, this would be a really great time for a magical assist!"

Just as he was wondering if the stress of the situation was finally getting to her, a breeze swept through the attic and riffled the pages, finally stopping on the power-switching spell he and Phoebe had used hours earlier.

"That again?" Piper asked incredulously, staring at the page. "How's that supposed to help Phoebe?"

Another, stronger breeze, and the pages turned again, this time to a more recent entry. "Warning: addition of powdered toadstool to the following potion will result in a body-swap," Piper read aloud. "Paige, didn't you write this last year?"

"Right after I accidentally switched with Phoebe," she confirmed. "It took awhile to work the potion out again, so I thought it'd be a good idea to have the information in case we ever needed it."

_Neither body- nor power-switching by itself would work,_ he thought. _But maybe both together…_ "Is there a way to combine them?" he asked. "Use both switches at once?"

"Maybe," Piper allowed. "Where are you going with this?"

"Phoebe's too powerful to last long under the possession, and you can't get through Jeric's wards without the Power of Three," he said matter-of-factly, beginning to pace again as a plan took shape. "You tried to bring Phoebe here and failed. Well, suppose you could leave her body where it is and just summon her spirit and her powers?"

Paige nodded slowly. "That would buy us time," she said speculatively. "And then we could get through the wards to dispossess Phoebe's body and vanquish Jeric."

"Yeah," Piper said dryly, copying the potion ingredients onto a pad. "In theory, it's a good plan, or at least the best we've got. But you realize that if we want the Power of Three intact—that'll take more than just Phoebe's powers; it's about our bond as sisters. So the one we're going to have to switch with Phoebe—"

He nodded, cutting her off. "I know. And I wouldn't have suggested it if I weren't willing to do it."

"So what do we do?" Paige asked Piper. "Combine the spell with the potion?"

"Brew the potion, use the spell, and then add the powdered toadstool as a catalyst," Piper corrected her, capping her pen and pocketing the potion recipe. "I've got the potion; you write a spell. I don't care if it's a quatrain or a haiku or what, but for God's sake, make it quick!"

She rushed downstairs to the kitchen, and Paige grabbed the abandoned pen and pad, beginning to scribble something down. Every few seconds, he heard her cross a word out.

"And what am I supposed to do?" he demanded. "Just sit here and wait?"

"Yes," Paige said distractedly, not looking up. A second later, she extended her free hand. "Rhyming dictionary," she commanded, and the desired item orbed obediently into it. Setting the pen down, she began to flip through the pages. "If you really want something to do, go help Piper."

Chances were she didn't need—or want—his help, but anything was better than the endless waiting. He left the attic and made his way downstairs, where Piper was standing in front of a bubbling cauldron. Deciding against disturbing her, he leaned back against the doorframe and watched.

"Angelica, shredded rowan bark, holy thistle, and…" She threw a pinch of something into the potion, which foamed up violently, then subsided. "Cinnamon," she finished with a satisfied smile, dusting off her hands. "That should about do it; now we just need the catalyst." Without turning around, she said, "If you're done staring, you can come in and sit down."

After five years as a witch under frequent attack, he realized, moving into the kitchen and dropping onto a chair, she would have developed a very acute sense of when she was being watched. "You're done? It's been nearly half an hour—"

"Yes, I'm done," she said shortly, stepping back from the cauldron and picking up a measuring cup from the counter. "And you don't need to tell me how long it's been; I've been watching the damn clock, too." Sitting down across from him, she shoved the cup across the table. "I pre-measured the powdered toadstool for you. Once Paige and I have read the spell, throw it in the cauldron and stand back so the explosion doesn't get you in the face."

He'd seen this kind of thing done a couple of times before, but he appreciated the warning. "Thanks," he said, and glanced up to check the time. Thirty minutes and counting: Phoebe's time was running out. "Can Paige hurry up?" he said tersely. "We don't have time for her to get writer's block!"

Footsteps on the stairs. "Calm down, would you?" came Paige's voice. "I've got the spell."

_Thank the Powers for small favors,_ he thought, picking up the powdered toadstool and moving to stand by the cauldron. "Ready when you are," he said evenly.

That was, perhaps, not entirely truthful: he was not looking forward to this. In fact—if he admitted it to himself—possession had become a fear of his ever since…then. Who knew what he might be made to do under another's control? Even if he no longer had powers capable of doing real damage…

_This is for Phoebe,_ he reminded himself. And then: _After the Source, some ancient Egyptian sorceress can't be all that bad._

Paige angled the paper in her hand so Piper could see it, and they chanted together:

"_At this time and in this hour,  
Switch two lovers' souls and powers:  
While our sister wears his face,  
We send him now to take her place."_

There was a heartbeat of silence when they finished, and then he drew a deep, steadying breath, threw the powdered toadstool into the cauldron, and took a quick step back.

_Boom!_ There was a loud, but contained explosion, and he felt suddenly lightheaded. Distantly, he was aware of his knees buckling as he fell backwards, and then of nothing more.

_A/N: Yes, I know you've probably all seen a variation of the gender-switch thing done before—allow me to assure you that I didn't do this for the opportunity to make gratuitous jokes about various anatomical details (and there will not be any)._

_And yes, I'm updating early again (when I run out of chapters written in advance, spoiling you with all these early installments is going to come back to bite me). In return, I'd really appreciate reviews, especially since I have a long and tedious paper to write today, and reading your feedback as I go along would really lift my spirits. So can you please drop a specific comment or two into my inbox? Please? With sugar and another early chapter next weekend on top as a token of my gratitude?_


	8. Awakening

A voice penetrated the fog, female, familiar. "Phoebe?" Hands gripping her shoulders, insistent shaking bringing awareness back. "Phoebe!"

Piper's voice. She groaned and opened her eyes, looking up to see her older sister standing over her; a sideways glance found Paige kneeling beside her. "What happened?" she asked, and then gasped and sat bolt upright, heart pounding. That was _definitely_ not her voice. It was too low to be hers, too deep—

_Cole's,_ she realized with a start, slowly bringing a hand up in front of her face. Her suspicions were confirmed: this was a man's hand, larger, strong instead of delicate, and thicker at the knuckles. "You put me in Cole's body?" she demanded of her sisters. _Have they gone _nuts?

"Yeah," Paige said nonchalantly, rising. "His idea, not ours, but it was a good one. Come on, on your feet." A brief pause. "Or his feet, whatever."

She stood up, surprised to find herself towering over Piper and Paige. _Of course,_ she thought, remembering. _Cole's a foot taller than any of us_. "This is too strange," she said, trying in vain to get used to speaking with his voice. "Where is he? In me?"

Piper nodded as she led the way upstairs to the attic. "We switched your powers along with your bodies, so the Power of Three's intact to bust through Jeric's wards. Then we can dispossess him and put you both back where you belong." She grinned and patted her pocket. "I wrote a spell to get Isis out of your body while I was waiting for the potion to simmer."

"You can fight in that if you have to, right?" Paige asked, tapping Phoebe's chest. "You probably won't, but if Jeric puts up more fight than Piper can handle alone and I need backup…"

"I think I can." She backed up and tried levitating, which worked fine, and then a few experimental kicks and punches, which dashed her earlier relief.

Her physical movements were way, way off. Cole's center of balance was too different from hers, not to mention his build and weight. He was stronger than she would normally be—she could feel that—but not as agile or flexible. "Or maybe not," she admitted, dropping her arms and returning to her place beside Paige.

"What's wrong?" Piper asked.

"I can't move his body the way I'd move mine," she explained. "So anything physical I do is going to be clumsy—I can't help it."

"Never mind," Paige said, taking her hand and Piper's. "We have a date in Egypt."

The world dissolved in a flurry of bright lights, a sharp jolt running through her body, and next thing she knew, she was standing in front of an Egyptian temple, the sun beating down on her back and shoulders. "How do we get in?"

"Maybe that spell we used on the demonic academy gates?" Paige suggested.

Piper shook her head. "It lacked oomph, and we don't have time to play magical battering ram with the wards," she pointed out. "We need something stronger."

"Let me try," Phoebe said. "I didn't get to do my part with your last spell, so I might as well take a shot at this one." She paused a moment, pensive, then chanted:

"_With these words, the spell is spoken  
Wards brought down, and barriers broken.  
Power of the sisters three  
Unlocks the way, and grants entry."_

Piper and Paige repeated it with her twice more, and the huge doors before them imploded, crumbling to dust.

"That's one for the Book," Paige said as they entered the main room, where a demon she recognized as Jeric was powering up an energy ball. She—or her body, anyway—was there, too, and dressed in Egyptian garb. As she'd expected she would, Isis looked seriously ill, a sheen of perspiration coating her skin and her eyes glittering with fever.

"Okay, mummy-boy, party's over!" Piper snapped, throwing up her hands. Instantly, Jeric exploded into black dust.

"Jeric!" Isis cried with Phoebe's own voice. The expression of grief twisting her face metamorphosed into rage. "I'll destroy you for this!" She brought back Phoebe's hand…and produced absolutely nothing.

_She can't use Cole's power,_ Phoebe realized, just managing not to grin. _Even if she weren't so sick, she's too angry to get the trigger right. _It was a moot point, though: even if she could have, it wouldn't do them any harm.

"Shut up before you ruin Phoebe's vocal cords," Piper said, and waved her hand again. Instantly, Isis froze.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "I thought you couldn't freeze me or Paige," she said. "Loophole?"

"Yeah," Piper said, taking the dispossessing spell out of her pocket. "First of all, it's not you in your body, and second, good witches don't freeze, but evil possessors do. If you wouldn't mind?" She held the paper so Phoebe and Paige could see what was written on it. "I want to get rid of the psycho sorceress, get home and put you both back in the right bodies."

That sounded good to her, too. She nodded and read with her sisters, _"Host soul that lies within suppressed, by the Power of Three is dispossessed."_

Piper's freeze ended, and a cloud of black smoke burst from Cole, who cried out and fell to his—her?—knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Cole?" Phoebe moved to his side, knelt down and took his hands. (Well, his for the moment, anyway.) "Are you okay?"

He looked up and offered Phoebe's own familiar grin, his breathing already evening out. "A little disoriented, but getting better by the minute," he said, and then looked down at himself with a pained expression. "But I'd like this outfit—and this body—on you more than me."

"That makes two of us," she said wryly as she helped him up, noting with some wonder how small—even delicate—he looked beside this larger body. "Let's go home."

"I'll second that," Paige said as she took Phoebe's hand, looking enviously at the lightweight top and harem pants Cole was wearing. "Egypt is too hot to be dressed for late January in the northwest."

"Agreed," Piper said, taking Paige's free hand. "So let's get out of here before we all roast."

An instant later, safely back in the attic, she and Piper both released Paige's hands. "Thanks," she said, dropping onto the sofa beside Cole, who leaned comfortably against her, much as Phoebe herself would have done were their positions reversed. Automatically, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

_It feels strange to hold him instead of being held by him,_ she thought, _but not exactly wrong. Just different. _"Do we need a potion and a spell to reverse this?" she asked, gesturing with her free hand to indicate both of them. "Or just a spell?"

"Potion and spell," Piper answered, already on her way downstairs. "Just come up with a couplet, and I'll have another batch of the potion ready in fifteen minutes."

Paige handed her a pad and pen. "The rhyming dictionary's on the table if you need it," she said. "I'm going to go lie down—I've never orbed that far before; it took more out of me than I thought it would." She pressed a hand to her mouth to smother a yawn and left the room.

"Do you want to write it?" Phoebe asked, offering the writing materials to Cole. "Piper did say you should have some practice making up spells, and this one doesn't have to be long."

He laughed, as though she'd made a joke, and then looked up at her face and sobered, leaning away from her. "Oh. You were serious."

"Of course I was serious," she said. "Being able to write a spell is a basic skill you'll need to perfect—and trust me, it'll be easier to practice now than when there's a demon hurling energy balls in the living room and we need a quick vanquish."

"Point taken," he said dryly, tapping the pad with the end of the pen. "I'll give it a shot, but check it before we use it. When even some of your spells have unanticipated consequences, I don't want to think what could go wrong with one of mine."

She watched him write, taking in the two short lines on the paper in a glance. "That'll work fine," she said approvingly as he put the pad down. "Simple and direct—none of us could do it better."

"Flattery, Ms. Halliwell?" he teased, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "That'll get you—"

"With you? Everywhere," she cut in, returning his grin in kind as she realized they were flirting, comfortably and easily, just as they'd done before. "And that reminds me…I never did get that kiss."

"Hmm," he said, putting on a pensive expression as he pretended to have to think about it. "After we're switched back around, do you think?"

"It's a date," she promised.

"Phoebe! Cole!" Piper called up the stairs. "Potion's ready!"

She tore the sheet of paper with the spell written on it off the pad and handed it to him. "And that's our cue," she said. "Showtime."

He let her lead the way to the kitchen, where Piper directed both of them into chairs. "I'm not bending down to get you off the floor when you pass out," she said, handing Phoebe a small container of powdered toadstool. "With thirty pounds of extra weight to carry around, it's murder getting back up."

Phoebe winced in sympathetic pain. "Got it," she said. "So…say the spell, then throw in the toadstool?"

Cole nodded before Piper could answer. "That's how we did it the first time, anyway. Can you get that into the cauldron from here?"

"I'll move closer to throw it," she said. "There'll be enough time for me to get back into the chair before it takes effect. Spell, please?"

He held it so she could see, and they read together, _"Powers, faces, forms restore, to make all as it was before."_

Rising, she took a step nearer the stove and pitched the powdered toadstool into the cauldron, moving quickly to sit back down.

She wasn't a second too soon. The familiar small explosion sent smoke billowing toward the ceiling, and a wave of lightheadedness swept over her, making her grateful for the solidity of the chair beneath and behind her. Distantly, she was aware of a hand closing around hers, and then a sudden shift, and darkness—

The world righted itself, and her vision cleared. Drawing a deep breath, she looked down at herself, relieved to find everything as it should be, and then turned to Cole, seated at her side. It was good to see his face from the outside again.

"Much better," she said with a contented sigh, and rose. "I'll be right back," she said to Cole. "But I want to get out of this outfit first."

"Wait," he said, raising a staying hand. His eyes flickered upward, then back down—admiring, she knew, the way the revealing clothes hugged her every curve. "Okay," he said after a second. "Now you can go change."

She swatted his arm playfully, pretending to be affronted, but let her hips sway—just a little—as she left the kitchen. It would be so easy to fall back into old patterns, to let the spark of attraction flare up into passionate flames.

_Easy, but not right,_ she reminded herself as she shucked off the harem outfit and changed into jeans and a long-sleeved top. It was one thing to flirt, or even to kiss, but if she let it go much farther than that, she'd regret it later—not in the heat of the moment, but certainly the next morning.

Their next time should reclaim and reaffirm their love and trust in each other—reducing that to mere physical gratification was to cheapen it. Besides, if she wasn't ready for the emotional commitment of marriage, then she wasn't ready for intimacy, either. That came with a whole range of complicated feelings, and the last thing she needed right now was more baggage.

_That settles it,_ she decided. She'd leash her libido for now and save the bedroom agendas for after marriage—or at least engagement. Remembering the way he'd looked at her, she smiled, feeling a delicious shiver go down her spine. _Oh, yeah. Definitely engagement._

"Phoebe?" She heard his knock on her door. "Everything okay in there?"

"Yeah," she said, moving to open it and joining him in the hallway. "I'm fine. And I believe," she added, leaning a little closer and tilting her head up in invitation, "I promised you a kiss…"

He leaned down, and she saw the familiar spark smoldering in his eyes and knew it was also in hers; she reached up, pulling him to her, and crushed her lips to his in a searing kiss, and he responded with ferocity to equal hers and oh God, this was the kiss she'd been longing for, full of heat and desire and passion. With a few steps backward, she maneuvered them into her bedroom, and he shut the door behind them in one swift motion.

Now there was no careful distance, no lines, no tentative, delicate handling. This was the lover she remembered, unrestrained and absolutely irresistible, and she wanted him, _right now_, reservations be damned. She let one hand fall, insinuating it between them to undo his shirt buttons.

"We—shouldn't—do this…" he murmured brokenly into her mouth, beginning to unbutton her jeans. "Just say—stop…"

"It's…_mmm_…okay," she said huskily as they fell to the bed, skin-on-skin, his hands moving over her in heavenly ways even as she sought out the spots that made him squirm. "Love each other—all that matters."

And after that, they became thoroughly lost in each other and the fire building between them, and there was no more talk.

_A/N: I was going for non-graphic sensuality with this last scene, so I hope that I didn't offend anyone's sensibilities. Yes, Phoebe's moving a little faster with Cole than she meant to, but I've noticed that what she means to do in her relationships and what she actually does are often contradictory, and that she can be prone to spontaneous physical gestures. And no, this was not a throwaway scene; it is going to be important to the continued evolution of the relationship (and for other reasons, which you can probably guess without much trouble). Also: the last chapter I posted only received one review, so I would appreciate it if you include a comment on it in your reviews for this chapter…again, just telling me one or two specific things you liked (which doesn't have to take more than two or three sentences) would really make my day, and without taking much time out of yours._


	9. Afterwards

He woke later, still spooned together with Phoebe, her back to his chest and the top of her head nestled just under his chin. He took a minute to enjoy the closeness, the perfect fit of them together, the warmth of her against him, and then collected his thoughts.

Thinking, he reflected ruefully, brushing a stray lock of hair away from Phoebe's peacefully sleeping face, had not been high on his priority list for the last couple of hours.

_I shouldn't have let it go this far,_ he berated himself. _I let my hormones play havoc with my brain, and now we're both going to pay for it._ She would have regrets—she would have to; she couldn't have put all her pain behind her so quickly.

Yes, they'd flirted a little; yes, she had been intentionally pushing a button or two (or five or ten) when she'd sashayed out of the kitchen in that damn harem outfit, but neither necessarily screamed 'Bedroom!'

She'd offered a kiss—_just_ a kiss. Granted, he'd been expecting something a little less heated, but he'd been around the block with her several times before, and knew that she was given to intense physical gestures. And they could reflect conflict or confusion just as easily as passion. How often had she given him a variation of the 'I'll always love you, but we can't be together' spiel and later kissed him like that?

Where had his self-control gone? He could keep his demonic half on a tight leash for a year and a half, but he couldn't resist Phoebe?

He should have expected that. He'd never been able to deny Phoebe anything.

That didn't change the fact that he wanted to kick himself for this.

_Okay. Putting aside the 'shouldn't-haves' for a second, the fact is that we _didhe thought. _Other fact: it was wonderful. It was fulfilling and completing._

It was a colossal error in judgment. Phoebe had trusted him to respect her boundaries, to give her time to adjust and heal, and what did he do? At the first temptation, he took her to bed.

Deep down, he knew he wasn't being entirely fair. It wasn't like they'd done it just for gratification—it _had_ been an expression of very real love. And it had been mutual—he hadn't stopped her, but she'd initiated it in the first place. And she had been a _very_ willing participant.

Maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than it was. Maybe he hadn't hurt her at all, and they could pick up approximately where they'd left off. It would be better to find out what her feelings were about the whole thing before he decided on his next move.

Just as he decided that, he felt her stir against him, yawning and bringing up a hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes. "Morning," she said sleepily, turning over to face him.

"Evening, I think," he corrected her, slinging an arm over her shoulders to keep her close. She didn't shrug it off, which was a good sign. If she was willing to cuddle, he couldn't have done that much damage. "Are you all right? After—what we did?"

She laughed, reaching over to caress his chest lightly with her fingertips, moving them in small circles on his skin. "None of the problems we had were ever in the bedroom," she pointed out. "And don't feel guilty, okay? We didn't do anything I didn't really, _really_ want to do."

He smiled slightly, toying with a lock of her hair. "I thought you said you wanted to take it slowly?"

There was a short silence. "I wasn't thinking about that," she said slowly. "It was just—you know, the way it used to be…when we were so comfortable with each other? It felt like that, and it felt _good_. I guess I just thought…if we can have enough of those moments…reclaim what we lost…then we can put the bad parts of the past behind us and move forward."

There was some odd logic to that. Maybe if they just ignored the painful parts of their history for a while, formed a couple of better memories…maybe then it would be easier for them both. Maybe they really could just move forward without looking too far back. They'd done it before.

But he knew from experience: serious wounds left untreated—whether physical or emotional—never healed; they just festered. All the tender moments they could accumulate were, at best, a short-term solution.

"We're still going to have to work the past out between us," he said quietly, not without regret. "It doesn't have to be this minute, but it has to be soon. We can't go much farther forward until we do."

It wasn't much of a leap from bedroom to wedding to child, he knew. And he also knew that she would not put that ring back on her finger until she was completely at ease with him again, which she wasn't. Not yet.

But maybe it had helped a little, that they'd done this. At least, it made sense that she would prefer to remember this when she thought of them together, rather than the Source with her in that cursed marriage bed.

He felt as well as heard her sigh, a slow, warm exhalation against his throat. "I know," she said, her voice as soft as his. "But for now…let's just start with talking about _today_, and work our way backwards later."

He nodded his agreement: it was, as she said, a start, and as good as any. "Do you want to go somewhere else?" he offered.

She laughed, and he thought fleetingly of how he'd missed the sound. "Cole," she pointed out with a grin, "it's sweet that you want to be a gentleman, but we're naked in bed together. It's kind of a little late to start worrying about taking the hands-off approach now."

He had to admit that she was right: his timing on that proposition could have been better. "Point taken," he said, returning her grin in kind and allowing a teasing note into his tone. "How about your clothes? Or should we let that go, too?"

"And you wouldn't mind one bit if we did, would you?" she countered, still smiling as she moved out of his embrace and slipped from beneath the covers to find the discarded heap of their clothing in the corner. Tossing his to him, she sat down on the end of the bed and dressed again, trying in vain to tug the wrinkles out of the fabric of her shirt.

"You might as well just put on a different one," he said, buttoning his shirt and jeans. "Either way, your sisters are probably going to guess."

"You're right," she said with a shrug, returning to her place next to him and letting herself fall back against the pillow. "No point trying to hide it; they know me too well. Besides, neither of them is going to make a big deal about it."

"And why's that?" he asked, curious.

"Because," Phoebe said, sounding satisfied, "turnabout is fair play. Piper wants to be able to have her 'couple time' with Leo without any comments after, and Paige doesn't have anyone right now, but she will eventually, and when she does, the same thing applies. If they tease me now, I tease them later."

Ah. That made sense. "Okay," he said, lying back down and turning towards her. "I'll leave the sister dynamics to you. So…where are we starting?"

"After Paige orbed home, but before Jeric grabbed me," Phoebe said. "What was his story, anyway?"

"Like I said earlier," he began, thinking back for the details, "he was actually native to ancient Egypt. The locals weren't powerful enough to vanquish him, so they mummified him instead. A couple of centuries later, he was found and revived by an evil sorceress, and they fell in love."

"Isis," Phoebe said with a nod. "But then what happened to her to reduce her to possessing witches? She was obviously corporeal once."

"His enemies flayed her alive," he supplied, "and he blamed himself. His power let him trap her spirit; stop her from moving on. Ever since—until today—he'd been hunting for a replacement body. But the way possession works…"

Phoebe nodded. They both knew how many witches Jeric must have gone through for his lover's sake. "Too short-term. It would actually be kind of a romantic story…"

"If he hadn't killed so many innocent people," he finished for her. "But anyway, moving back a little…Paige used the scrying crystal she took from the last witch's apartment and retraced her scry, right to the Mirror." He was silent for a long moment, remembering the chilling realization that Phoebe was in danger, the sickening sensation of his heart pounding in his throat. "That's how we found you, and you know what happened there."

"As if I could forget," Phoebe said ruefully, shaking her head. "I even thought of the possibility he might be a possessor demon—it was stupid to just rush in like that."

"It wasn't stupid," he contradicted, bringing her close again. "Sometimes the best defense is a good offense, remember? If he'd wanted to kill and not capture, that would've been the right approach. You had no way of knowing.

"From there," he continued, "Leo or Paige—I'm not sure which; they were both there—orbed us back to the attic. Jeric had blocked Leo's read on you, and Paige's scrying wasn't working. Turned out that was because we needed a bigger map." He was glad he'd been able to contribute at least that much help. "I suggested we use the globe, and Piper finally pinned you down in Egypt."

He felt Phoebe shudder. "I realized that was where he'd taken me," she said. "Then he hit me in the head and knocked me out. I probably could've fought him, but I was kind of disoriented from the sandstorm-shimmer." A short pause. "I don't know exactly what he did while I was unconscious, but I woke up with Isis in control and spent the next fifteen, twenty minutes observing while she did this 'dance of the veils' thing for Jeric."

He felt a flash of irrational jealousy—how dare another man look at Phoebe's body like that!—which was replaced almost at once by worry. "She didn't actually…do anything, did she?"

Phoebe shook her head. "She wanted to," she confessed, color rising in her face, "but Jeric thought it would be too strenuous, and anyway, about then, the possession started to make me really sick, which killed the mood. She went to lie down and rest, and about ten minutes after that, I blacked out and woke up again in you." Another pause, a little laugh. "That really threw me for a loop, by the way. I mean, I've done the body-swap thing before, but never with a gender-switch."

He'd never experienced either, but he could understand her feelings: her body had been very, _very_ different from his own, and not just for the obvious reasons. "Sorry for the shock," he apologized. "But the only way to do the spell and leave the Power of Three intact—"

"I know," she said with a nod, cutting him off. "You don't need to explain to me why you did it the way you did. I'm just glad that Piper was able to take out Jeric solo, because if she'd needed me to fight like that, we'd've been screwed."

He looked to her, curious. "Couldn't you? The motion should've been basically the same…"

But she was shaking her head. "No. Men's bodies and women's can't really move the same way, or at least not exactly—I actually read a little about it when I was learning kickboxing and all the other martial arts stuff. You probably noticed your center of balance was different." She paused for a second, then added wryly, "I know I did."

Reaching forward, she ran a hand over the planes of his torso. "But besides that, you've got the broader chest and shoulders, so you carry most of your weight above the waist. With women, the way the hips and pelvis are built, it means we carry most of ours below it. And women are generally more flexible then men are, because the connective tissue's more elastic."

All of this was news to him, but it was logical. "It was probably stranger for you than for me," he said. "I didn't spend much time sans possessor, so I was spared actually doing much as you."

"Believe me, even fifteen or twenty minutes was probably more than enough," she said, and then laughed.

"What's funny?" he asked.

"Just thinking," she said, composing herself, "how often I've told my readers that they should try taking a walk in the other person's shoes when they have relationship problems. If a marriage counselor could replicate what we just went through…"

"He'd be lynched," Cole said dryly, though he couldn't suppress a grin as he thought through the implications. "Most people's tolerance for the surreal would be strained by even a little magic, never mind something that extreme. I mean, even _we_ thought it was weird."

"I didn't say it would be popular," Phoebe pointed out. "Just effective. But how did you come to the point of needing the switching spell? Didn't Piper and Paige try anything else after they couldn't break the wards down?"

He nodded, searching his memory for the name of the spell they'd tried. "To Call a Lost Witch, I think. Involving several herbs and the addition of blood?"

"That would be it," she confirmed. "I thought I felt something like a summoning at one point, but it kind of fizzled out. I'm not sure if it was because of the wards or Isis or both."

"Either way, it didn't work," he said. "At that point, Piper was getting fairly worked up, and she yelled for magical assistance from…someone, and the Book's pages started turning—first to the power-switching spell, and then to the page with the body-swap potion. I just put two and two together, that's all."

"You're making it sound like less than it was," she said, holding his gaze. "Possession, especially after what you went through—"

He set a finger to her lips, cutting her off. "Don't worry about it, Phoebe. You mean everything to me—there's _nothing_ I wouldn't do for you."

"I know that," she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. Then, more loudly, "But you shouldn't have _had_ to do it."

"And there's a lot you've done for me that you shouldn't have had to," he pointed out, trying not to remember the myriad of occasions she'd put herself in danger for his sake. "Besides, I was glad to be able to help you—it wasn't easy for me to sit back and wait while your sisters handled it. I'm not good at waiting; I wanted to _do_ something."

"It's not easy for you at all, is it?" she said, and he knew she was referring to more than his hatred of sitting idly by while others fought. "All this change?"

He was silent for a long moment. "Yes and no," he said at last. "On one hand, it's a lot easier to adjust to being a witch than it was to try being a mortal. But on the other," he added with a rueful laugh, "I never realized just how dependent I was on my demonic powers. I don't have anywhere near the firepower now that I did before, and that makes me feel vulnerable. I can't use the deflection offensively unless my opponent makes the first move, and I've never worked that way."

Phoebe reached up to cup his cheek—a mute comforting gesture. "You'll feel more confident in your new power after you vanquish a demon with it," she said. "Trust me."

"Always," he said automatically, and was about to kiss her when Piper's yell rang up from the kitchen.

"_Leo! _Where have you been? And _why_ are you wearing felon orange?"

"Let's go," Phoebe said, sitting up. "I can't wait to hear him explain this."

It turned out that when Leo had orbed out of the attic, what he'd done was put on a Glamour to make himself look like Jeric, and proceeded to arrange his own arrest, thereby securing Darryl's promotion.

In any other house, Cole reflected, just managing not to laugh, that would have been completely insane. In this one, it was par for the course.

_A/N: An unprecedented thirteen reviews for the last chapter—thank you all so much! I've been riding the euphoria from that for days, so I felt like rewarding my readers in return with an early update. Please keep sending feedback…one or two specific comments are all I ask. (Not that I don't _love_ long reviews, if anyone feels the urge…and please note that I do reply to the lengthier ones, even answering questions and dropping a hint or two on what's to come.) Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed…as ever, barring significant reader response, chapter ten is due for posting next week as usual._


	10. Living Nightmares

They were lucky enough, after the Jeric and Isis debacle, to have two days of relative peace—no demonic attacks, no new threats. For a while, Phoebe even dared to hope that the tranquil period would hold up until after Piper delivered. The due date the Elders had predicted was only five short days away.

Her hopes shattered that night, when sleep came and the nightmare began. It had changed since she'd had it last; its new form was frightening, and she was almost glad when she felt the premonition take her.

_Flash!_ A campground, cloaked in darkness. She knows this place from her childhood, but she is not seeing campers there now. Two new creatures are facing off. One is a demon; the other, in the form of a wizened old man, she does not recognize.

"Please, don't!" begs the man, but his plea falls on deaf ears. A bolt of electricity leaps from the demon's palm and strikes him, and he explodes into a shower of golden dust.

She gasped and sat bolt upright in bed, shocked to see the Innocent from her premonition standing over her. His hand was closed around hers.

"Help me!" he said urgently. "This is not a dream."

But before she could ask anything of him, he vanished before her eyes.

Yawning, she glanced over at the alarm clock, bright red numerals glowing in the darkness. _Five A.M.,_ she thought, dismayed. _Too early to be awake._

But between the nightmare and the premonition, there was no way she was going back to sleep. She had a demon to identify, and then all of them had an Innocent to save. _I should have known the peace and quiet was too good to last._

Kicking off the covers, she slipped out of bed and got dressed, then padded silently upstairs to the attic and switched on the light before beginning to flip through the Book of Shadows.

"Tracer Demon," she concluded at last, reading the entry. "Lower-level bounty hunters…can track magical prey across dimensions. But then," she wondered aloud, "what was it hunting? And why?"

The answer to the first question, she knew, should yield up the answer to the second. Lifting the Book from the lectern, she dropped heavily onto the sofa and continued turning pages. Twenty minutes later, she found the Innocent archived under 'Sandman.'

_Why would a demon want to go after people's dreams?_ It seemed unnecessary: usually, demons simply killed mortals—or witches—that got in their way. Why bother targeting the Sandmen? "Because people need to dream," she answered herself, remembering her psychology classes. "If they can't, then they can't work out their issues in their sleep."

What the exact effects of that would be, she didn't know. Apparently, however, they were going to find out.

Returning to her room, she dressed and got ready for work—she might as well, since she couldn't go back to sleep—glancing at the clock on her way down to the kitchen. _Quarter to six,_ she noted, pulling the coffee beans out of the freezer and plugging in the machine. _This is going to be one of those days._

"Phoebe? What're you doing up this early?"

She looked up and saw Cole standing in the doorway. "I could ask you the same thing," she said around a yawn as she hunted for the machine they used to grind the coffee beans, finally locating it in the cabinet to the left of the one under the sink. "Do you want coffee?"

"Please," he said, sitting down at the table. Then, curiously, "Can't you sleep either?"

She shook her head as she fed a couple of tablespoons of coffee beans into the machine and flipped the switch to turn it on, flinching involuntarily at the sudden noise. "Bad dreams, I guess," she said when the grinding stopped. Dumping the grounds into the coffee machine's compartment, she added water and pressed a couple of buttons. "It should perk in ten minutes or so."

"Thanks," he said, reaching up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "You've been up for a while, haven't you?"

"Since five," she answered. "My nightmare segued into a premonition, and I was in the attic checking the Book until about ten minutes ago."

He looked up sharply, instantly alert. "So, the quiet spell's over?"

"Afraid so," she said ruefully. "As far as I can tell, we've got a Tracer Demon after Sandmen."

"That's got to be part of a larger operation," he said after a moment of pensive silence. "Tracers are lower-level; they don't act independently. So if you saw one Tracer and one target, assume there're more that you didn't."

She nodded. "I did. What I can't figure out is why demons would be interested in devoting so much time and energy to stopping people's dreams. I mean, I know people need to dream, but what happens if they don't?"

"Anger," he said grimly. "If they don't get rid of their emotional burdens in their sleep, it carries over into their waking lives. They end up surly and with hair-trigger tempers."

"How do you know?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Seen it done?"

He shook his head. "This specifically? No. But in a hundred years, I've learned a lot about demons, and one thing about them is that they don't dream." A short pause. "You know what demonic temper's like. I can't say for sure that not dreaming will do the same thing to humans, but it's a decent working theory."

It actually made sense: maybe demons provoked so easily because they never got the full benefit of sleep. "Could you dream?" she asked curiously, getting two mugs out of the cabinet and setting one down in front of him before sinking onto a chair. "When you were half-demon?"

"Only when I slept in human form," he said. "But I figured out fairly young that I could think more clearly during the day if I stayed out of my demonic shape at night."

The kitchen was beginning to fill with the rich, dark aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Rising, she brought the pot to the table, grabbing a trivet on the way by the counter. Piper would kill her if she burned a ring into the table. "Do you still take sugar?" she asked.

He nodded, but raised a staying hand. "I can get it," he said. "You sit." He stood up and located the sugar bowl, setting it down next to the coffee pot before returning to the fridge for the milk.

Even after all these months, he remembered that she didn't like her coffee dark. "Thank you," she said as he sat back down and passed her the carton. "I can just tell this is going to be one of those days I get through entirely on caffeine…between work and this new Innocent, not to mention Piper's due date so close…"

"I still can't believe you and Paige are going to deliver the baby," he said, stirring a teaspoon of sugar into his coffee. "Piper seems like the type to want a by-the-book hospital delivery, especially since he's going to be so premature."

"If she could have a hospital birth, she would," Phoebe told him, adding milk and sugar to her own mug and wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. "But that's really not an option, considering the little guy's going to come out wrapped in swaddling orbs."

"So it's a 'secrecy of magic' issue," he surmised. "I bet Piper just loves that."

"Like a hole in the head," Phoebe confirmed with a wry grin. "To tell you the truth, I'd push for a hospital birth, too, in her place. But with a half-Whitelighter baby…"

"Did your mother have Paige at home?" he asked over the rim of the coffee cup, swallowing.

"She must have," Phoebe answered, sipping her own coffee, making a face, and adding another spoonful of sugar. _Much better. _"But Paige wasn't a preemie…Mom wouldn't have had to worry about the same health risks."

"With any luck, neither will Piper," he said. "And even if there are problems, I'm sure the Elders would let Leo heal her or the baby if it's needed." A short pause. "Or at least, they couldn't stop him."

_No, they couldn't do anything. Not until after the fact, anyway,_ she thought. "You never know with them," she said. "Sometimes it's okay to bend the rules; sometimes it's not. And when it's not, Leo's the one who pays for it. He hasn't had it easy, trying to balance his career with Piper and the baby."

"He's willing to fight for the people he loves," Cole said, draining the coffee mug. "We don't always see eye-to-eye, but I can relate to that." He rose and took the mug over to the sink, rinsing it out. "Is the dishwasher empty, or should I leave it?"

"Leave it in the sink," she said, finishing her own coffee and placing hers there. "The dishwasher's still running from last night. One of us will put the dishes away and load it again when it's done." Stepping back from the sink, she looked up at him. "By the way, you never did tell me—what has you up so early?"

"It's nothing; just a nightmare," he said with a shrug, not quite meeting her eyes. "I figured, as long as I was up…"

She nodded and let the matter drop. He was being evasive, and they both knew it, but if he wanted to keep his bad dream to himself, that was his business. It was fine with her—she didn't want to talk about hers with him, either. "Any plans for the day?" she asked, returning to small talk.

"I thought I'd write up my resignation from the firm," he said.

"Can you afford to do that?"

"Financially, you mean?" he asked. "Phoebe, I don't _need_ a job. I just like the sense of purpose I get out of it. However, my 'sense of purpose' needs are all fulfilled"—he triggered the deflection briefly by way of demonstration—"so I'm not going back. Which is just as well," he added musingly, "considering that I probably won't be welcome there after I tried to strangle my secretary early last week."

She did a double take and spun to face him. "You _what_?" she demanded.

"Easy," he said placatingly. "I was hallucinating at the time, remember? Seeing enemies everywhere?"

She released her breath in a long sigh and relaxed. _As long as he didn't do it on purpose. _"Right," she said, and then let a teasing note creep into her tone. "Did you send her 'sorry I tried to strangle you' flowers, too?"

"Not funny," he said, but couldn't suppress a grin. "If I never have to shock another florist with that, it'll be too soon."

"Just as well," she said lightly, just managing not to laugh as she thought of what the poor florist must have thought when Cole had had that same message sent to her a few weeks ago. "So, you're going to try doing the witch thing full-time?"

"I thought I would," he said. "Why?"

"Just that we've all done that at some point," she explained, sitting back down at the table and pulling out the chair beside hers for him. "And eventually—believe me on this one—you're gong to want something in your life that has nothing to do with magic."

"I see," he said, sitting down next to her and holding her gaze. "About how long does that take?"

"Depends on the person, I think," she said with a shrug. "But the point is that you have to have something in your life that's normal. Piper has her family, Paige has her social work—"

"We have this," he interrupted, reaching forward to take her hand. "Us. And eventually, we'll have a family, too. Normal enough?"

"Yes," she said with a smile, her free hand moving as though unbidden to trace the symbol of that promise, gleaming in the hollow of her throat. "Definitely normal enough." It wasn't time, not now, not yet. But someday, not so far in the future, they would have their happily-ever-after.

She was just about to lean forward to kiss him when Paige's voice broke in and ruined the moment. "Do you need a room?"

"No," she said, turning around to face her sister. "Glad you're up. Coffee?"

"Sure," Paige said tiredly, yawning and heading toward the cabinet for a mug. "But what're you doing up at this ungodly hour?"

"It's quarter to seven," Cole said as she sat down, passing the coffee pot across the table. "That's not nearly as bad as you're making it sound." He turned his attention back to Phoebe. "Want to go wake up Piper and Leo?"

"Piper's five days from delivery," Paige said, pouring milk and an unhealthy amount of sugar into her coffee and stirring vigorously. "And she's _cranky_ about it. It might be a better idea to let her sleep."

"Fine. Just Leo, then," Phoebe said. "I hate to say it, but it might be better to check and see what the Elders know about what's going on before we make any plans."

"Not them again," Cole complained, reaching up to rub his temples as though just thinking about the Elders gave him a headache. "They're just a bunch of pompous, useless bureau—"

"Shh!" Paige hissed, cutting him off. "They might hear you, and we do _not_ need to piss them off."

Cole's eyes widened in surprise. "You're telling me that they _spy_ on you?"

"Well, no," Phoebe assured him. "They only listen in when we say something that attracts their attention. Like how Piper had to use the word 'rutabaga' instead of 'wedding' when she and Leo were trying to elope without them finding out?"

"I don't think I was around for that," he said, looking blank for a minute; then comprehension crossed his face. "Was it during that eclipse?"

She nodded, and he suddenly looked guilty. "I was sort of the reason the Elders found out about that," he confessed. "It was before I started working with good, but—"

She held up a staying hand, cutting him off. "You don't have to explain," she told him. "I can make a pretty good guess. You told the Triad, and they told the Elders?"

He nodded.

"Whatever you do, do not _ever_ tell Piper that," Phoebe warned him. "She may not be able to blow us up, but you're fair game." She was only half-joking.

"Duly noted," he said dryly.

"This was before me, right?" Paige asked her.

"A little less than a year, I think," Phoebe said, rising. "I'm going to go wake Leo up—Cole, can you just fill Paige in on the demon of the day?" Without waiting for his answer, she turned and went upstairs, knocking on Piper and Leo's bedroom door. "Leo?" she called softly. "Leo?"

Orb-lights glittered, and her brother-in-law appeared beside her.

"You could have used the door, you know," she pointed out, amused.

"Orbing when a charge calls me is reflexive," Leo explained, yawning. "I honestly didn't think of walking." Then, remembering that she _had_ called him, he shifted instantly into Whitelighter-mode, all concern. "What's the matter?"

"I had a premonition about two hours ago," she said. "I need you to orb Up There and ask the Elders what they know about Sandmen being targeted by Tracer Demons."

He nodded and obediently orbed out, and Phoebe returned to the kitchen. "Leo's gone Up There to check with the Elders," she reported, sitting back down. "Assuming they give us the go-ahead, what's the plan? Orb over and wait for the Tracer Demon to show up?"

"We're going to have to," Paige said. "We don't have anything to scry for him with, and we can't pull the 'summon-and-vanquish' routine, either." She started to rise, then paused. "Mind if I bring the Book down here?"

"It's fine," Phoebe assured her.

"Thanks," she said, and extended her arms. "Book of Shadows!" Instantly, it appeared in a cascade of orb-lights, and she paged it open. "I'll look up a vanquishing potion for the Tracer and get started on it," she said.

Phoebe opened her mouth to say they wouldn't need one—after all, they had Piper—then realized it might be better if her older sister stayed off her feet. "You're right," she said instead. "Piper can't move as fast as she used to, and we might have to run." She looked up at the clock. _Seven._ "I'd better get to work," she said apologetically. "If I might have to rush out, it'll sit better with Elise if I get there early."

"About when do we need to get going?" Paige asked.

"The attack was at night," she supplied, checking her pocket for her car keys, "so maybe we should get in position around sunset. Just call me if you need me, okay?" Bending down, she gave Cole a quick kiss, then hurried out of the kitchen, shrugging into her coat on her way out the front door.

Once she arrived at the Bay Mirror, it was all too easy to see that the attacks on the Sandmen were having an effect. Elise handed out no fewer than three assignments involving assault, and two of Phoebe's co-workers got into a knock-down-drag-out fight over which of them was supposed to cover a particular story. She ducked into her office, grateful to shut her door on the noise, and picked up the phone to call home.

"Any word from Up There?" she asked when Paige answered. "Everyone here is acting crazy—I've got two colleagues outside literally wrestling on the floor over a story." Sitting down at her desk, she glanced at her inbox, stacked full of letters from readers. Would Elise let her take them home? She might be able to plead distraction…it _was_ awfully noisy outside her office…

"Leo just got back a couple minutes ago," Paige said. "The Elders have confirmed that we have to go save the Sandmen, and I've got a vanquishing potion simmering on the stove. Just get through your day, and we'll go ahead tonight as planned." There was a brief pause, and Phoebe could hear Piper's voice in the background, angry.

"Sorry to cut this short," Paige said at last, "but I've gotta go help Leo convince Piper to sit this one out. Bye!" _Click._

Setting the phone back in its cradle, Phoebe sighed, hit the button to boot up her computer, and picked the first letter up from her inbox, trying to ignore the sounds of fighting outside. _We're going to have to fix this,_ she thought, skimming the letter as she clicked the word processor open. _And _fast_. If it's like this all over the city…_

That was not an idea she wanted to dwell on.

When she returned home hours later, the sun was beginning to set, and Paige had transferred the vanquishing potion into vials. She pocketed several and went upstairs to find her sisters.

"For the last time, Piper, you're not going, and that's that!" came Paige's exasperated voice from Piper and Leo's bedroom. "We settled this, remember? You're five days from delivering and shouldn't be running around!"

She knocked on the door, then opened it without waiting for an answer. "Hey," she greeted them, sitting down on the bed next to Piper. "The sun's nearly down. If we're going to save that Sandman, we should get moving. Where's Cole?" she asked, noting his absence.

"In the conservatory, I think," Leo said. He didn't look annoyed, as Paige did, but he did seem tired. "He got fed up and left when Piper insisted she was going to go for…the third time, was it?"

"Watch it, honey," Piper said testily, narrowing her eyes. "And I still think—"

"This is going to be a quick, in and out, lower-level demon vanquish," Phoebe interrupted. "Save your energy for something bigger. We don't need the whole Power of Three to orb in and throw a potion." She reached back to fluff her sister's pillow. "Stay here, watch your soaps, and enjoy the magical maternity leave, okay? We'll be back soon."

Piper scowled, disgruntled, but made no further protests. Catching Paige's eye, Phoebe nodded towards the door. _Come on,_ she thought. _Before she changes her mind again._

Paige got the tacit message and rose, leading the way out. "Do you have the potions?" she asked.

"I grabbed three on my way upstairs," she said, pulling one out of her pocket and pressing it into her sister's hand. "It's never a bad idea to take extras. Can you wait just a second? I want to double-check the entry on Sandmen before we go. The Book's still in the kitchen?"

"Should be," Paige said. "I left it there when I was finished brewing the potion."

Phoebe nodded and went in, finding Cole paging through the Book at the table. Hearing her footsteps, he closed it and turned around. "Time to go?"

"Wait a minute, you're going?" Paige demanded, joining them. "We don't really need more than two for this—"

"I could use the practice," he cut in, rising. "I'll never be able to hone my control over the deflection if I don't go out and use it. Besides," he added, coming to stand next to Phoebe, "I hate sitting at home and waiting."

"Let him go," Phoebe said, cutting off her sister's protest. "We don't have time to argue."

"Fine," Paige conceded grudgingly, handing Cole a vial of the vanquishing potion and taking Phoebe's hand. "We're just going to vanquish the Tracer and come home. That's it. So try not to get in the way, and don't do anything stupid. North State Campground, right?" she asked Phoebe.

Phoebe nodded and slipped her free hand into Cole's, and Paige orbed them out of the manor.

_A/N: A little premature for a Thursday update, but I'm under the weather this week and going to bed early, so the posting-at-midnight thing I usually do isn't going to happen. Thanks again to all fifty-two of my generous reviewers; your comments have given me more happiness than you can possibly imagine. That said, I'd really love your insights on this latest installment—one or two specific points would be excellent (not that I'd mind a longer review in the slightest). By the way, if you have a question about the story in your review and want a reply, please leave a signed review so I can reply via PM. (Also note: the longer the review, the longer the reply…and I'm not above dropping a hint or two regarding my future plans for the tale on request.)_


	11. Confrontations

Half an hour later, arms folded over his chest for warmth and thinking that he ought to have brought a coat, Cole wished that the Tracer Demon would just hurry up and attack already. Waiting with Paige and Phoebe for their opponent's first move wasn't as nerve-wracking as waiting alone in the manor, but it was every bit as boring and significantly less comfortable. "What happened to, 'we're just going to vanquish the Tracer and come home'?" he asked, keeping his voice deliberately even. "Because that made it sound like it was going to be a quick in and out."

"Shut up, Cole," Paige grumped. "You're not the only one standing out here freezing your ass off, you know. And—may I just remind you—we didn't _ask_ you to come. That was _your_ bright idea." She turned to Phoebe. "We really have to work on fine-tuning your premonitions," she said. "Getting a better sense of the timeframe here would've been helpful."

"Well, there wasn't exactly a clock around here to consult when I saw the attack," Phoebe retorted. "For all I know, we could be here for hours!"

"Maybe not," he said. "We can give it another fifteen minutes, and if the Tracer still doesn't show, we'll switch to Plan B."

"There _is_ no Plan B!" Paige snapped. "We never come up with a Plan B until Plan A blows up in our faces."

_Whatever they've been doing has worked for this long,_ he reminded himself, just managing not to point out the necessity of always having at least one backup plan. _And I'm going to have to start playing the game their way, at least to a point._ "Maybe you should start," he said. "Because one of these days, you may not be able to regroup and come up with another plan after the first one fails."

"Thank you, Mr. Optimist," Paige muttered under her breath.

"Any time," he said flatly, looking around. The sun was down now, and the early evening dimness was deepening into true night. "Hopefully, this won't take much longer. Where the hell _is_ that Tracer?"

"Shush!" Phoebe said sharply, and cupped a hand over her ear. "Do you hear something?"

Voices, some distance off—faint, but audible. He strained to catch the words.

"…think I wouldn't come back for you?"

"Speak of the demon," Paige said with a thin smile, taking a vial of vanquishing potion out of her pocket and breaking into a run. "Come on, hurry!"

Arming themselves, they sprinted after her. He could hear another voice now, answering the first.

"Actually, I was counting on it."

Another few yards forward; then he could see them, two figures silhouetted in the darkness. One was half-crouched into a fighting stance, his arm drawn back. In a moment, Cole knew, an energy ball would surge into his hand.

"Split up?" he heard Paige say to Phoebe.

"Yeah," came the reply. "You take the Tracer; I'll get the Sandman."

He was feeling like a third wheel here, but at least he wasn't freezing anymore. "And me?" he asked as they drew nearer.

"Watch our backs and don't get hurt," Phoebe said tersely, and she and Paige ran in opposite directions, she toward the Sandman and Paige toward the demon.

"Hey!" Paige yelled. He saw the vial of potion gleam in the moonlight as she threw it, and it spun toward the Tracer Demon.

A bolt of electricity rent the air, lighting up everything for half an instant, and the potion exploded harmlessly in mid-flight. The shockwave knocked Paige backward, but she orbed even as she fell, reappearing beside the Sandman just before impact, so she and Phoebe flanked him on both sides. Cole moved forward quickly to stand beside Phoebe.

"Potion!" Paige snapped, and the vial in his hand vanished in a swirl of orb-lights and reappeared in hers. She threw it, and this time, it hit. Flames sprang up around the Tracer, and he cried out in agony.

None of them were expecting the second lightning bolt.

The Tracer exploded in flames, and the Sandman into glittering gold dust that covered them all.

"Dammit!" Phoebe swore as she brushed herself off, shining particles glinting in the moonlight as they drifted down around her. "We _had_ him!"

"We can't save every Innocent," Paige said regretfully, combing the dust out of her hair with her fingers. "And we _did_ manage to vanquish the demon. He won't be able to go after any more Sandmen, ever."

Cold comfort. They had lost the Sandman they'd come to save.

And Cole hated to lose.

"We'd better get out of here," Phoebe said after a moment. "My hands are getting numb. Paige?" She looked at her sister expectantly. "Paige?"

Paige was even paler then usual, her eyes wide, staring behind them, and her mouth hanging open.

Slowly, slowly, he turned and saw Phoebe—the Phoebe from his nightmares, her eyes flashing and her face twisted with rage and hatred. "Get away from me," she said, her voice low and deadly. "You're evil. You'll always be evil." The nightmare backed away warily, arms upraised, ready to attack. "I never want to see you again! I hate you!"

Tearing his gaze from her, he saw a copy of himself standing in front of Phoebe, garbed in black robes, his eyes black and soulless and a fireball glowing in his hand. "This is your fault," the simulacrum said coldly to her. "You made this happen!"

He felt her hand close tightly around his, and he turned to her, saw guilt in her face, and fear.

Fear of the nightmare, or of him?

Another voice, this one with a slightly deranged quality. "Remember me?"

He and Phoebe both turned and saw a clown standing there, smiling unnervingly.

"Thousands of murderous demons after you, and you have nightmares about _clowns_?" he said incredulously, his shock at Phoebe's nightmare momentarily forgotten as he stared at Paige.

"Get rid of them now, mocking later," she said tersely, grabbing his free hand. "They're dreams, right?"

"Yeah," Phoebe said. "Out of the unconscious, maybe, but what else would they be?"

"Good," Paige said. "Repeat after me." Her voice dropped into a rhythmic cadence, and she chanted, _"Before their power grows too strong, send these dreams back where they belong!"_

It was hardly classic poetry, but it'd do. They echoed her words, and the nightmares dissolved before their eyes—each returning, he supposed, to its respective unconscious.

"Thank God," Phoebe said, breathing a sigh of relief. "It would not have been good to have those running loose." She turned back to Paige. "_Now_ can we go home?"

She made no answer, but he felt the now-familiar sensation of orbing, and then saw Halliwell Manor's kitchen materialize around them. Immediately, he dropped Paige's hand and took a step back.

"Cole?" Phoebe's voice, a little hesitant. "I think we should talk."

He did not want to talk right now, not after what he'd just seen. If she dreamed of him as the Source, or worse, feared him because of it… "Later," he said. "Right now, I just…want to go out for a while." He needed space, needed to be alone to think and sort this out. "I won't be gone long, I promise."

Her brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked. "It's not really safe to go out alone at night, especially not for us. If something happens…"

"I can take care of myself!" he said, a little more abruptly than he'd intended.

"Cole…"

"I didn't mean to snap at you," he apologized, seeing the flash of hurt in her eyes. "But I can't stay in the house forever without going crazy. I'll call Leo if I need saving, okay? I'll be fine." He left the kitchen, grabbed his coat and car keys, and was out the door before she could answer.

Ten minutes later, he parked in front of the penthouse and went up to his apartment, entering and locking the door behind him. He felt more at home in Halliwell Manor, with Phoebe; but this place was his, and he wouldn't be disturbed.

"I screwed up," he said bitterly, dropping onto one of the kitchen chairs. "I'm not sure exactly how, but I screwed up. _Again!_" He would go home, and she'd tell him—for what, the fifth time now?—that she would always love him, but she couldn't be with him.

_But everything was going so well! What went wrong?_

_Something_ certainly had. Nightmares didn't lie.

But…her nightmare of him had not tried to hurt her, he realized. It hadn't done anything evil; all it had done was speak. What had it said?

"'This is your fault. You made this happen,'" he repeated quietly, remembering. "But then…" Phoebe's nightmare wasn't really about him at all. Was it possible that she blamed _herself_ for what he'd done as the Source? Or even that the Source had possessed him in the first place?

How could she?

_No one said fears were always rational,_ he thought, remembering his own nightmare as he rose and pushed in the chair. _And if that was hers… _"Okay," he resolved. "Time to go home, apologize for being an idiot, and fix this mess."

"You're not going home, Belthazor," came a half-familiar voice. Startled, he spun and faced the speaker.

"Klea," he said tersely. He hadn't known that the demoness had survived. "What do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked idly, powering up an energy ball. "You allied yourself with a witch, backstabbed the Brotherhood of the Thorn, and caused _me_ to lose power." Her voice hardened. "I want vengeance."

Slowly, he maneuvered around the table, putting it between them. "I don't think so," he said nonchalantly, infusing his tone with confidence he didn't feel. Deflection was a very good defense—the best, if what he'd read in the Book of Shadows was correct—but all powers had their limits, and this was not the ideal testing scenario. "How about this—you leave right now, and I don't vanquish your ass."

Klea raised an eyebrow, smiling thinly. "You've been around witches too long, _brother_," she said coldly, spitting the final word like a curse. "You're beginning to talk like them." She swept her arm forward, and the energy ball hurtled through the air toward him.

The deflection's light flashed into his hands, and he reached up reflexively to block her blow, which rebounded back at her. Much to his dismay, she dodged, and it hit the wall instead, leaving a scorch mark.

"So the rumors are true," she said cryptically, and shimmered out.

He wasn't so arrogant as to believe that he'd scared her off—she'd belonged to the Brotherhood, and had thus been very powerful in her own right, and ruthless besides. His deflection, useful as it was, would not have been sufficient to faze her. That meant, he realized, that she'd been testing him, seeing if he posed any threat to her before she moved in for the kill.

"Leo!" He hated to call the Whitelighter—asking for help was a blow to his pride—but he knew Klea was more than he could safely handle alone, making instant transport out of the penthouse his best option. "Leo!"

Nothing.

He'd been around Phoebe and her sisters long enough to know that when a charge called, Leo dropped whatever he was doing and orbed out within seconds. If he wasn't responding now, it meant that Cole's signal—or whatever it was that allowed Whitelighters to sense their charges—was blocked.

And it was theoretically within Klea's power to have done that. If the robes she'd been wearing were anything to go by, she'd become some kind of dignitary after the rest of the Brotherhood had been vanquished. A Dark Priestess, maybe?

It hardly mattered. What was important now was getting out, back into the public eye and under Leo's radar, and then home. He was too vulnerable where he was—as long as he stayed in the apartment, Klea could attack at her leisure.

He left the kitchen at a brisk walk (not a run; he refused to run from her) and picked up his car keys, unlocking the front door and stepping into the hallway.

He hadn't gone more than five steps before he had the eerie feeling that he was being watched. He tensed, muscles coiling in preparation to fight. "Show yourself!" he said brusquely, clenching one hand into a fist and leaving the other open to shield. "Or is hiding and spying all you can do?"

"You always were a fool."

Too late, he realized that her voice came from behind him. He heard glass shatter and felt cold liquid soak into the denim of his jeans, dampening his skin.

"Paralysis potion," Klea said smugly, closing her hand around his wrist as tightly as any vice. He tried to pull away from her, to turn and attack, but realized in that instant—and not without a twinge of fear—that he couldn't move. "It works almost instantly."

She shimmered, pulling him with her, and they reappeared in a cavern in what could only be the Underworld. This particular gloomy dimness, this dry heat, could not exist anywhere else.

"What do you want?" he demanded, relieved to find that he could, at least, still speak. "To kill me?"

Even as he spoke, he realized that that couldn't be: if she'd wanted to kill him, she would already have done it. In the apartment, he could not have hoped to fend off her attacks indefinitely, and she had him entirely at her mercy now. Her intent had been to capture, not to kill.

Even the energy ball she'd initially thrown at him had probably only been meant to stun. No wonder he'd deflected it so easily: it had been low-voltage.

"No," she said, confirming his suspicions. Releasing him, she planted both hands on his chest and shoved him to the cave floor, where his inert body impacted painfully with the stone. Fortunately, his torso, not his head, took the brunt of it. "I have something better in mind."

She bent, manipulating his limbs the way a child would a doll's, and fastened manacles around his wrists and ankles. The chains connecting the manacles, he saw, were threaded through metal rings protruding from the floor.

_If she's going to the trouble of chaining me down,_ he thought, _it's got to mean the paralysis will wear off soon._ He watched as she arranged black candles around him, marking an inverted pentagram, and lit them, murmuring words under her breath that he couldn't catch.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"How the mighty have fallen," she said with a twisted smile, as though she hadn't heard him. "Belthazor, ex-Source, reduced to humanity and the trivial powers of a low-level witch."

As soon as he could move again, he promised himself with a flash of anger, he'd show her _'trivial'_!

He only just managed not to speak: if he wasn't mistaken, she was getting ready to gloat—as demons with evil plans were wont to do, sooner or later—and he could get a more complete picture of what she intended for him if he didn't interrupt.

"That can be fixed." She removed a vial filled with something blood-red from the folds of her robes and toyed with it. "Raynor had the right idea in the beginning; he simply failed to extend the work far enough."

He did not like the sound of that.

"There's no place in the Underworld for a half-breed," she said silkily. "But it shouldn't be too difficult to cure your corruption at its source—a human soul can be stripped just as easily as demonic powers."

A shiver of fear. He steeled himself against it, arranging his features into a blank mask. _I will not panic,_ he told himself sternly._ I will _not _panic._ If he did, he'd be playing right into her hands.

And surely Phoebe would be worried by now, would realize something was wrong: any minute, she and her sisters would come to the rescue, and he would have nothing more serious to deal with than injured dignity and the knowledge that Piper and Paige would never let him forget what a huge inconvenience it had been to have to save him.

"Of course, we'll need to prepare the way first." A short, sharp command in a language he didn't know, and quite suddenly, he could move.

Instantly, he began to struggle, thrashing against his bonds, but stilled when he felt the manacles tighten painfully. "Let me guess—you cursed them especially for the occasion, right?" he said, his tone dripping scorn.

There was only one reason she would have reversed the effects of the first potion: because it would interfere with what she planned to do next. And whatever it was, she clearly didn't want him to be able to move much more than he had under the paralysis.

"No need to stop." Klea sounded almost amused. "Go ahead, keep struggling. I'd love to see them break your bones."

Quite aside from the practical consideration that escape would be much more difficult if he sustained serious injury, the last thing he wanted to do was give her that satisfaction. He relaxed—at least as much as was possible—and calmly stated his opinion of her, using words he'd learned from his mother.

Very shortly, the amusement faded from her face. Kneeling down behind him, she delivered a stinging slap to his cheek—purely out of contempt; she had other means of doing real damage. "Open your mouth."

He shook his head, silent, but made an eloquent and unmistakable gesture with one upraised finger.

"Fine." Moving behind him, she pinned his head between her knees to keep him from turning away, then reached forward and pinched his nose shut, holding the vial in her free hand and pulling out the cork with her teeth. "You'll need to breathe sooner or later," she sneered.

_Damn her, damn her, _damn_ her!_ It figured: Klea hadn't survived where the rest of the Brotherhood had died by being stupid. And they both knew rescue was not likely to come before he succumbed to the need for air.

His lungs were already beginning to burn.

A small eternity later, self-preservation won out, and he gave in and gasped for breath.

With a smile that could only be called sadistic, she poured the contents of the vial into his mouth. It was viscous and slightly acidic, and he could taste the bright coppery tang of blood, coupled with something bitter.

He managed to spit out most of it, but couldn't help but swallow some. He hoped that it wouldn't be enough to do what she had intended.

"That would have been much easier if you'd cooperated in the first place," she said condescendingly, withdrawing and standing up. "But it doesn't matter. You may have slowed the process by interfering with the dose, but the potion is potent enough; I made certain of that."

He felt a sharp, burning pain on one wrist and winced. "Process?" he coughed, feeling his stomach twist into knots and hoping that it was just nerves and not the potion taking effect. "Just what is it supposed to do?"

"Return you to your demonic state," Klea said matter-of-factly, looking satisfied. "And when it does, I am going to enjoy watching you suffer."

_Perfect,_ he thought bitterly, feeling his heart sink. _So much for escaping evil. _The damage was done; now he was going to have to cope with what happened next. "I'm _no one's_ minion," he spat. "Whatever form you put me in, I'm not going to work for you."

"Arrogant, aren't you, to assume you get a choice?" Klea asked, her tone making it clear that she didn't want an answer. "Of course, it hardly matters. Once you're rid of that ridiculous human _morality_"—the final word came in a sneer—"your true nature will assert itself."

He turned his face away, refusing to look at her.

"And then…well, I could easily set you loose on your witch," she mused idly. A brief pause, then, sounding as though she relished the thought: "Imagine the betrayal…ripped apart at your claws."

His temper flared at that, anger and horror mingling, and he felt the deflection flash uselessly in his hands and wished in vain that he had been given instead a power that would allow him to fight back. _Hurry, Phoebe,_ he thought, knowing she could not hear. _Someone needs to stop her, and stop this, before it's too late._

Was this to be his fate? Systematic destruction of body, mind and soul?

_Light Magic lied,_ he thought dimly, closing his eyes in resignation as he felt the pain of the change rip through him, knife-sharp. It was more intense now than he had known it to be before—perhaps because it was forced on him, not willed.

How long now until evil took over? How long until the old fog of bloodlust descended over everything, and nothing mattered but the hunt and the kill?

No matter what anyone did, he would never be free to be good. One way or another, his past would always come back to haunt him.

Actually…speaking of the past…perhaps this transformation could be turned to his immediate advantage. If he had access to the powers that had gone along with the form…

Focusing intently, he attempted to shimmer out of the manacles, but the ray of hope went swiftly dark: not even a flicker. Experimentally, he tried to form an energy ball—even if escape wasn't possible, incinerating Klea was still a very attractive prospect—but nothing.

Either the potion couldn't restore his former abilities, or they would return when he was too far gone to care. No matter—what it boiled down to was that he couldn't count on magical help to get out of his current plight.

_If I could just get out of these damn chains! _He knew from experience that his demonic form was stronger than his human one…strong enough, perhaps, to break free now? It was worth a try—after all, what did he have to lose? Bracing himself, he strained against the chains, smiling grimly as he felt them begin to give. Their constriction was painful—very painful—but then, this form also had a higher tolerance for pain. And he knew now that he could snap the chains before they could do really debilitating damage.

Klea turned at the noise, but too late; the chains broke and came away from the rings securing them to the floor, and he surged to his feet with a snarl, triggering the deflection just as an energy ball materialized in her hand

Maybe it was stupid to fight her—the only power he had wasn't strictly offensive—but it would only take one strong blow deflected back to incapacitate her, and he had had enough of being the passive captive.

She wanted to ruin his life? Fine—then he would do his best to end hers before she destroyed him completely.

_A/N: And the plot thickens…sorry, I know this is a particularly nasty cliffhanger, but you all know what to do if you want the next chapter early! (My hunger for feedback is insatiable, I'm afraid.) Writing a couple of sentences' worth of specific comments wouldn't take that long, would it? By the way, please remember to make sure your review is signed if you want a response to any questions._


	12. Power of Perception

"I'm worried," Phoebe said anxiously to Paige, setting the phone back in its cradle. "I've left two messages at the penthouse, but he's either not there or not picking up. He doesn't have his pager with him—"

"And if he were in trouble, he would have called Leo," Paige interrupted, cutting her off. "He said he would, remember? Anyway, he didn't say exactly when he'd be back."

"He said he wouldn't be gone long," Phoebe countered, sitting down at the kitchen table beside her sister, "and it's been an hour already. I just—look, I just think something's wrong. I have a really bad feeling…"

He would have answered the phone at the penthouse if he'd been there, or at least used a payphone to call her if he hadn't. 'I won't be gone long' was relative, true; but her instincts—which she'd long since learned to trust—told her that he was in trouble.

"What kind of bad feeling?" Paige asked, paying more attention now. "Like, pending-premonition bad?"

"No," she said. "Or at least not exactly—this is different. I just want to ask—" She broke off with a gasp, feeling a spasm of pain grip her body, and clenched her teeth against crying out.

"Phoebe?" Paige's voice was concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," she said after a moment. The pain she'd felt had been sharp and sudden, but it was gone now—it'd probably just been a cramp or something. Rising, she turned toward the kitchen door. "I'm just going to ask Leo if he knows whether or not Cole's all right. At least then, I'll have some idea of where he is."

She was only a few steps from the stairs when she felt a tearing sort of pull at her heart—and then something inside her seemed to break, some wall that she'd been unaware of crumbling, and a flood of emotions came forth in a rush: resignation, anger, sorrow, fear—and then they blurred together, indistinguishable from one another, and there was pain.

This time, she could not contain the cry, and it burst from her as she fell to her knees, one hand flying reflexively to her chest.

"Phoebe!" Paige came running and knelt down beside her. "Don't move. _Leo!_" she yelled up the stairs. "Get down here!"

The Whitelighter appeared in a glittering swirl of orb-lights. "What's wrong?" He knelt down, too, scrutinizing her for injuries. "Are you hurt?"

Was she? "I don't know," she said helplessly. "A second ago my heart hurt—really badly, like something was trying to rip it out of me—and then it stopped and I started to feel pain—and other things, too, but it all combines back into pain!"

"What other things?" Leo asked.

"Feelings, I think," she said, looking up to meet his gaze. "But they're not mine, and I'm feeling them in a way I _know_ I shouldn't be. Emotional pain doesn't hurt like this!"

"Your powers are advancing, if this means what I think it does," Leo said after a moment. "I'd have to check with the Elders to be sure, but you may have just become an empath. The question is," he added, pensive now, "whose pain are you feeling?"

"Forget that!" Paige said abruptly, and Leo's attention turned to her. "I'm more worried about her heart than her powers. Could she be having a heart attack?"

Leo's brow furrowed in concern, and he reached toward her, his hand glowing softly with gold light. "There's nothing physically wrong with her," he assured Paige after a moment, letting his hand fall back to his side. "Whatever she felt was probably just an echo of whoever's pain she's feeling." A long pause. "The thing is, empathic powers usually only work within a certain range—the only exception would be if there were some kind of preexisting link…"

"Okay, fine," Paige said impatiently. "That should shorten the list, right? She's got emotional and blood ties to me and Piper, but we're both fine; so are you, so that just leaves—"

"Cole," Phoebe finished for her. Closing her eyes, she tried to sort through the cacophony of emotions she was feeling. The pain lessened when she concentrated, when she didn't let them blur together and overwhelm her, and she took that as assurance that she was doing something right.

There was a sense of focus that hadn't been there before, and the sorrow had been pushed aside, now only a faint undertone. What was there, predominantly, was anger. And fear.

He didn't scare easily, she knew, and that knowledge was more than enough to feed her own fear for him. "Can you sense him?" she demanded of Leo. "Where is he?"

Leo closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in concentration. There was a long silence, and finally, he shook his head, rising as he opened his eyes again, anxiety coming into his face. "I don't know."

"I _told_ him not to leave the house," she said, half to herself. Doing her best not to get lost in the intensity of Cole's emotions (she _would_ _not_ allow herself to fall apart when he needed her), she reached forward, gripped the banister, and pulled herself to her feet. "I told him it was dangerous to go out alone at night! But did he listen? Of course not!"

_Getting worked up isn't going to help,_ she told herself sternly. _And you don't need to add any more to what you've got already._ She closed her eyes, drew a deep, calming breath, and shoved her anger aside. _Save him first; kill him later._

"Phoebe—"

"Don't 'Phoebe' me!" she snapped, wheeling on her sister. "He's in trouble and in pain, and I need to do something!"

"Paige?" Piper was hurrying down the stairs as fast as the added weight of eight months of pregnancy would allow. "Why did you call for Leo? Is something the matter?"

"It's Phoebe," Paige said tersely, getting up from the floor. "She's apparently an empath now, and she's feeling Cole's pain, so we have to go save his ass—which, by the way, he stupidly put in danger in the first place."

Piper raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute," she said, raising a staying hand. "Back up. Phoebe's an empath?"

"I'd have to check with the Elders to be sure," Leo repeated with a nod, "but that's probably what it is. Besides being hard to mistake for anything else, it'd be a logical extension of the powers she already has—perceptive-type."

"Can we get back to saving Cole, please?" Phoebe cut in, looking to each of her sisters in turn. "You can use the magic-to-magic spell I modified last year and send me to him—"

"And leave you both stranded wherever he is?" Piper demanded, folding her arms over her chest. "Remember, he can't shimmer anymore. Someone who can orb has to go with you so you have a way back." Then, with a significant look at their younger sister, "And depending on the situation, you might need someone with an active power…"

"Looks like I'm up," Paige said with a grin, taking Phoebe's hand and nodding to Piper. "Spell, please?"

"Fine," Piper said, sighing. "And once you get him back here, Phoebe, keep him on a shorter leash! He puts us all in danger when he goes out on his own."

"I'll talk to him," Phoebe promised quickly, trying not to allow her newest power to distract her. _Nothing new,_ she told herself, running through a mental checklist of the foreign-familiar emotions welling within her. _The situation hasn't gotten worse. _"Just hurry up!"

_"Magic forces black and white—"_ Piper began, then cut herself off, a look of realization coming over her face. "It's not going to work," she said. "We need to tweak it a little more first."

"What's wrong with it?" Phoebe asked, agitated. "I reworded the Belthazor summoning spell so it'd send me to Cole—"

"But that was when he was half-demon," Piper pointed out. "Now that he's human and a witch, a magic-to-magic spell to connect Light magic to Dark wouldn't work anymore."

She felt Paige's gaze on her. "Whatever you do," she heard her sister say, concern coloring her tone, "do it fast. We have to get Cole out of whatever pain he's in before it damages Phoebe."

"Here, let me try this." There was an instant's silence, then Piper chanted:

"_Magic forces white to white,  
Reaching out through space and light,  
Be he far or be he near,  
Go to Cole; return him here."_

White lights surrounded them both, and she felt a jolt as the spell took effect and pulled them from the manor. An instant later, they reappeared in a gloomy cavern in the Underworld, and Phoebe gasped to see Cole in his massive red-and-black demonic form, the blue starbursts of deflection emanating from his palms. There were manacles on his wrists and ankles, short lengths of broken chain dangling from them. She surmised that he must have been chained down, then broken free after he'd changed.

She would find out just how that had happened later. Right now, her attention was fixed on the demoness standing opposite him, an energy ball glowing in her hand. He tensed as she brought her arm back, preparing to throw it.

"Energy ball!" Paige commanded. Instantly, it dematerialized in a flurry of orb-lights, and Paige hurled it back at its originator, who screamed shrilly and went up in flames.

She could feel him relax as anger and fear abated, replaced with a sense of relief. She released her breath in a deep, long sigh and rushed to Cole's side. Ordinarily, she would be a little more wary of him like this—he'd tended to be somewhat unpredictable in demonic form in the past—but she couldn't sense anything malicious in him. "Thank God you're okay," she said.

He let out a bark of incredulous laughter. "I think your idea of 'okay' needs some adjustment," he said dryly, looking down at her. "This is not okay. This is about as far from okay as it's possible for me to get."

She'd forgotten how different his voice was when he changed—lower, deeper, and slightly hoarse. "What do you mean?" she asked. "You're not hurt, are you?" She drew back a few steps and gave him a quick once-over, relieved not to see any obvious injuries. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that I didn't do this," he said matter-of-factly, pressing one clawed hand to his chest, "and I can't undo it."

The anxiety she felt from him belied his even tone. "We'll fix it at home," she promised him, taking his free hand in both of hers and giving it a comforting squeeze before letting go. "I'm sure there's a spell or a potion in the Book of Shadows." She turned to Paige. "Let's get out of here."

Paige eyed Cole distrustfully, evidently wary of his not-slightly-intimidating demonic shape. "Can't you shimmer?" she asked, moving to stand next to Phoebe.

He shook his head, grinning sardonically and showing wickedly pointed teeth. "If I could, would I still be here?" he asked rhetorically. "I may be stuck in my demonic body, but I don't have the powers that went with it."

"Great," Paige said flatly, taking Phoebe's hand. "At least we don't have to worry about any stray energy balls flying around…" She turned her attention back to Phoebe. "You got him?"

"You can talk to me directly, you know," Cole said peevishly to Paige, closing a hand very gently around Phoebe's free one. She could sense his irritation. "I'm right here, and I'm not deaf."

Paige ignored him, and they orbed back to the manor, reappearing in the kitchen. At once, she let Phoebe's hand go, putting distance between herself and Cole. Phoebe could feel her suspicion.

_Not again,_ she thought, heaving a sigh. The last thing she needed now was for her sisters to jump back on the 'Cole-is-evil' bandwagon. "Paige, this isn't something Cole wanted to happen, okay? He doesn't like it any more than you do, so can you please just leave him alone?"

Paige looked surprised, then vaguely guilty. "I haven't done anything yet," she protested.

"No, but you don't trust him," Phoebe said simply, holding her sister's gaze. "You're radiating suspicion; I can feel it. Empath here, remember?"

Cole turned to her, and though she was less accustomed to reading his emotions on the face he was currently wearing, she could see as well as sense his surprise. "You're an empath? Since when?"

"About five minutes before we orbed in to save you," Phoebe said ruefully, returning her attention to him. "That's how I knew you were in trouble—I felt your pain."

He looked stricken. "I'm sorry," he said, wincing. "I would never have wanted you to—"

"No," she said quickly, cutting him off. "It's okay—I'm glad I did. Otherwise, who knows what she could have done to you?" She moved closer and put her arms around him. She missed the more familiar contours of his human form, but Cole was Cole, whatever body he was in, and she was _so glad_ he was safe. "We'll fix this," she repeated, resting her cheek against his chest. "Promise."

He hugged her back—hesitantly, though, his body rigid in her arms and his hold on her too loose, as if afraid that she'd shatter. "I should go," he said after a moment, releasing her and taking a step back. "The potion that did this—I don't think it's going to stop here, and if I get any worse, you'll all be in danger."

"Do you have a death wish or something? You're not going anywhere," Paige told him, dropping onto one of the kitchen chairs. "You can't leave the house like that, and there's no way in hell I'm orbing you back down to the Underworld."

"Thanks for your concern," he said tightly, "but you don't understand the problem. Klea intended to make me demonic—_fully_ demonic—and that entails more than just a physical change! She meant to strip my soul, so when I turn evil, I do _not_ want it to be in this house!"

No wonder his fear had been—still was—was so intense. He had dreaded the possibility of losing control to his evil side in the past—or worse, that he might hurt her if he did—and now, being trapped in demonic form had to be a nightmare come to life. He was terrified of himself, of what he had the potential to do.

She could relate. She'd been there.

"Oh, come on," Paige said with a snort, waving a dismissive hand. "You can't even throw one lousy energy ball. How much of a threat could you possibly be?" She rose. "I'll be right back. I just need to go tell Piper she shouldn't blow up the demon in the kitchen." Rising, she turned and left the room.

"You're not turning evil, Cole," Phoebe said, reaching forward to lay a hand on his arm. "You're miserable and you're mad and you're afraid, but you're not evil. If you were—even a little—I'd sense it. I'd know."

He shook his head, giving her a sad sort of half-smile. "Love is blind, Phoebe. You might not, because you wouldn't _want_—"

"Empathy doesn't work like that," she interrupted, hoping to reassure him. "I can't pick and choose what I feel from you—I get the whole picture, no matter what it is." Holding his gaze, she said earnestly, "Your soul is perfectly safe and right where it belongs." Looking down, she noticed the manacles still on his wrists and ankles, trailing broken chains. "Let me get those off?"

"I'd forgotten about them, actually," he said with a half-hearted chuckle. "Sure, go ahead."

_"Open locks with magic key; they'll disappear and set you free,"_ she murmured, and the manacles fell open and vanished. "There, that's better," she said, satisfied.

He flexed his wrists experimentally and winced. "Damn manacles," he muttered.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned. Her own joints ached in response to his motion, so she guessed that there was some damage. "Here, let me see." Taking the hand nearest her before he could pull it back, she tugged his sleeve up and grimaced, seeing the red skin was mottled with dark bruises. "God, that looks awful!"

"I've had worse, believe me," he said dryly, pulling the fabric back down. "They'll heal."

"I'll just get Leo," she said. "He'll heal them for you…" She trailed off, seeing that he was shaking his head. "What's wrong? You're his charge; he's supposed to heal you when you get hurt fighting evil."

"I know that, but Whitelighters can't heal evil, remember?" he said. "If he couldn't heal me when I was only half-demon, there's no way he's going to be able to do it now."

"You're _not_ a demon!" she insisted, raising her voice a little so he'd know she meant it. "Even if you look like hell, it's still you inside, Cole, and you're _good_."

He turned away from her, silent for a long moment before speaking. "I can't believe that," he said at last, still not looking at her. "I'm dangerous like this, whether I can throw energy balls or not—I _know_ what this body is capable of. I could hurt someone, or worse, ki—"

"Stop it!" she snapped, and he finally turned back to face her. "That's not who you are anymore," she said, more gently now. "I've told you that, remember? And I have all the faith in the world that you'd never choose to hurt anyone." Reaching up, she brought a hand forward to caress his face, smiling a little as he leaned into the contact. "So don't doubt yourself, okay?" After a moment, she withdrew her hand and rose, wincing a little as she felt the ache of the bruising at his ankles. "Come on. Let's go get those bruises healed."

He heaved a sigh, but nodded and followed her upstairs.

"Leo?" she called, knocking on her older sister's bedroom door. "Can you come out here for a minute? Cole has a couple of bruises that I was hoping you could fix…"

"Sure," she heard him call. "Just a second." Rustling covers, the squeak of bedsprings as weight shifted on the mattress, then footsteps and the turn of the doorknob, and Leo stepped out into the hall, eyes going wide with surprise when he saw Cole. "Phoebe, it looks like there's a little more wrong with him than just bruising," he said in his understated way. "I'm not sure I can—"

"Just try," Phoebe interrupted. "For my peace of mind and his."

"All right," Leo agreed at last, and moved to stand at Cole's side, gently tugging his sleeves up. He held his hands over the bruises, golden light streamed from his palms, and all traces of injury faded away.

"See?" Phoebe said, making no effort to suppress the overtone of "I-told-you-so' in her voice. "You're _not_ evil."

He didn't answer her, but the waves of all-consuming relief she felt from him made a reply clearer than any words. Finally, he turned to Leo and said simply, "Thank you."

"Anytime," Leo replied. There was a short pause, and then he asked, "How did you end up like that?"

Cole shrugged, deliberately casual. Although he was trying not to let them see his distress, she could hear the bitterness in his tone when he spoke, and sense the pain this caused him. "A former associate decided it would be fun to abduct me, strip my soul, and use me like some kind of attack animal."

_Do not react,_ she told herself firmly. Seeing her worry for his sake would only make him feel worse. "We vanquished her," she said, reminding them both. "And I told you, your soul is fine." She turned to Leo and said pointedly, "Isn't it?"

Demand, not question.

"As far as I know, stripping potions work immediately," Leo said. "Granted, I've never heard of stripping someone's soul"—he looked uncomfortable at the thought—"but whatever was going to happen probably already did. Believe me," he added with a significant look, "if his soul were gone, you'd know without any empathic abilities."

It wasn't difficult to work out the implications: it was bad enough that Cole had been forced into demonic shape, but if his soul had been taken from him, he'd have lost his inward humanity, too; the morals that kept him from being—

Well. She wasn't going to think about that; she would just thank the Powers-That-Be that it hadn't, and work out why when the crisis was past. "There should be something in the Book to reverse this," she said, returning her attention to Cole. "Come on."

He turned to follow her down the stairs. "Somehow, I doubt any of your ancestors had this situation to deal with," he said dryly. "Most of the spell reversals in there are in case of normal spell backfire, and then of witch-type magic. It doesn't cover troubleshooting for demonic rituals."

"It can't hurt to check," she said, sitting down at the kitchen table and pulling the Book toward her before beginning to flip through the pages. Absently, she wondered why, in six generations, no one had ever bothered to paginate and cross-index it. _Okay…we have reversals in case of becoming banshees, mermaids, Wendigos, even animals…and a vanquish for just about every demon you could think up…but nothing about how to turn a demon back into a human. _ "I'll go write a spell," she said.

He half-smiled and gave her a look that said, 'Told you so.'

"Okay, so you were right," she conceded. "Still, it's not a big deal. I mean, that priestess may've been good, but no demonic spell can hold up against the Power of Three."

"You're being overconfident, Phoebe," he warned her as she shut the Book and rose to hunt for a pen and paper. "The Power of Three can reverse it, but only if it _is _reversible." He paused for a moment, releasing a deep, long sigh. "It wouldn't surprise me if it was specifically designed not to be. Considering the exact nature of my betrayal—letting my human side rule—that would be vengeance all by itself…and the psychological torture element would really have appealed to her."

"Where did you know her from?" she asked, finally locating a pen in a drawer and a pad by the phone. Tearing off a sheet, she returned to the table. _Basic quatrain should do it…_ "I think we might have seen her somewhere before."

"She was in the Brotherhood," he said, sinking gingerly onto a chair and looking relieved when it held his increased weight without protest. "You got the others, but she was like a rat—she could survive anywhere."

"Well, I bet she won't find it so easy to survive in the Wasteland," Phoebe said darkly, crossing out a line and hunting for a decent rhyme. "Look, we already know what she tried to do didn't work the way it was supposed to, and that means she messed up."

He shook his head slowly. "I don't think she did," he said. "She didn't get where she was by making mistakes. It would have worked, except…" He trailed off into pensive silence, one hand rising to rest over his heart, and she realized in a horrifying instant what that terrible pull must have been.

"I felt it," she said, her voice very nearly a whisper. Then, more loudly, "It just strained for a second; it never actually tore. Something stopped it."

"But what could've—" A look of realization crossed his face and he broke off, then pulled up his sleeve and extended his left arm, revealing the octagram Light Magic had placed on his wrist.

"It's glowing," she said, tracing the lines with a fingertip. "Why?"

He pushed the fabric back over it. "It burned for a second immediately after she forced that potion down my throat," he said. "I thought it was just damage from the manacles then, but now…"

That would explain it. "You think Light Magic…?"

"She said that once I chose a side, nothing would interfere," he said. "And that this"—he tapped his wrist—"was for my protection. I know I'm not invulnerable to harm, but maybe what she meant…"

Relief flooded them both. "Is that you can't be turned evil against your will," Phoebe finished for him. "So the potion did work—sort of—but Light Magic's spell canceled out the worst of it. You're safe." She tapped her pen idly against the paper. "I'm about halfway through. Should I try something more basic to reverse this before I write a full Power of Three spell, or just start by pulling out the big guns?"

"Go with the Power of Three spell," he said after a moment. "I don't want to bother your sisters too much, but it's the most efficient way to work. If the Power of Three doesn't break this, nothing's going to."

She wasn't worried. After all…the Power of Three had been strong enough to vanquish countless upper-level demons, plus the several incarnations of the Source of All Evil. There was no way it could fail to break a Dark Priestess' enchantment, especially if Light Magic's protection was already working in their favor.

She took a few minutes to perfect the spell, then folded the paper. "Got it," she said. "Do we go up there, or call Paige and Piper down here?"

"Piper is in bed and eight months pregnant," he pointed out. "Do _you_ want to call her down here?"

"Good point," she said, leading the way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. "Especially knowing the kind of trouble Leo and Paige probably went to so she'd stay in the bed. If she doesn't kill me for getting her up, they will." She knocked on Paige's bedroom door. "Paige? Can you come out here for a second?"

Paige opened the door, making a face when she saw Cole. "Haven't you figured out a way to fix him yet?" she asked. "Because, you know, he looks _really_ disturbing like that."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

"I wrote a Power of Three spell," Phoebe answered, holding up the folded paper. "So if you're not busy, can I borrow you for just a minute? This isn't going to take long."

"Sure." Paige took the lead, striding to Piper's bedroom, knocking on the door, and opening it without waiting to be invited in. Piper and Leo, sitting on the bed, both looked up, startled, as they came in.

"Hi," Paige said sweetly. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything, but we need you for a Power of Three spell really quick, okay?"

"Let me guess," Piper said flatly, tilting her head in Cole's direction. "You need us to help reverse that?" Before Phoebe could answer, she motioned them closer. "Come on. The sooner the better."

Moving to stand next to the bed, Paige beside her, Phoebe unfolded the paper and angled it so her sisters could see the words written there. They chanted together:

"_Evil changed your form and face  
To those so long ago erased.  
We call upon the Power of Three  
To annul that magic and set you free."_

One minute passed, then two and three, and no one spoke, watching, waiting expectantly for something—anything—to happen.

Nothing did. Cole stood a short distance off, statue-still and unchanged. His face was closed, expressionless, but she could feel his terrible, crushing resignation, his sorrow.

The spell had failed.

_A/N: Yes, another evil cliffhanger...sorry again! And before any of you start clamoring about the Power of Three being strong enough to break absolutely any evil spell known to demonkind--trust me, I have a reason and a good explanation for what I just did. Once more, you all know I love reviews, short or long (especially long, but short ones are good, too). Take five minutes to make a specific comment or two...I'll reply if the review's signed, and I might even drop a hint about what's coming if asked._


	13. Reveal the Key

He stood still for several minutes, feeling their stares on him and awkward silence pressing in as they realized that the spell was not going to work. He'd half-expected that reversing the potion's effects wouldn't be as easy as Phoebe had insisted, but he realized now that he hadn't thought—not really—of what that might mean.

The Power of Three was the strongest force of good that there was, and the most powerfully magical. If even that couldn't undo what Klea's potion had done, then there was a very real possibility that he would be trapped in his demonic shape forever.

Then there would be no place for him anywhere. He'd shunned the Underworld, and leaving the house like this was out of the question. Halliwell Manor would become his prison, and he and Phoebe would have—could have—no future.

It was Piper who spoke first, her voice breaking into his dark thoughts and returning his attention to the present. "That should've worked!" she said in frustration, eyes flashing as she turned to Leo. "That was a freaking _Power of Three_ spell! Why didn't it work?"

"Not all magic is reversible," Cole said soberly, holding Phoebe's gaze. "This might not—"

"It is!" Phoebe said abruptly, cutting him off. She left Piper's bedside and came to stand beside him, reaching to take his hands and holding them tightly. He knew his claws must be pricking her skin a little, but she didn't seem to care. "And we _will_ find a way to undo it!"

There was nothing but certainty in her tone, but he could see the shadow of doubt in her eyes and knew that she was considering the same terrible 'what-if' that he was. Carefully, he extricated his hands from hers and turned away, leaving the room.

Perhaps sensing that he wanted to be alone, she didn't try to follow.

The door that led to the attic staircase was open, so he went up there—it was as good a place as any, and he was less likely to be seen through the attic window than the ones on the other floors. He heaved a sigh and sank down onto the sofa.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there before he heard Phoebe's footsteps climbing the stairs. She shut the door behind her, then sat down beside him. "Leo's gone Up There to see if the Elders know anything that can help," she reported, "and Piper and Paige are rechecking the Book."

Her sisters weren't likely to find anything there that she hadn't, but it was the Whitelighter's gesture that struck him as the true exercise in futility. "Leo honestly thinks the Elders will help me?" he said incredulously, shaking his head. "When have they ever managed to give you information that was actually helpful?"

"We're covering all fronts, okay?" Phoebe said, but couldn't quite suppress a grin. "Even if the Elders are usually pretty useless, they might know _something_ that we could do." She was quiet for a long moment, contemplative. "I just wish I knew why the spell we cast didn't work. It should have!"

"'Should have' isn't always enough," he said quietly, avoiding her gaze but acutely aware of her eyes on him. "Not everything done by magic can be undone, and we've pretty much established that there's not going to be a quick fix for this."

She leaned into his side, molding her body to his—whether for his comfort or hers, he wasn't sure, but it was a familiar gesture, and he slung an arm around her shoulders automatically, keeping her close. Apparently—and ironically—whatever fears of him the Source might have left her with didn't seem to apply to this form.

That made a twisted kind of sense. This was the demon of their early relationship: she would not look at it and remember what plagued them now, but a time that had been mostly happy, if no less complicated.

"We will fix it," she said softly, looking up into his face. Her gaze was intense, her face set in determination. "Even if I have to move heaven and earth, we're going to fix it."

"What if we can't?" he asked her, his voice low.

Phoebe was about to answer, presumably with more reassurances, but was interrupted when Leo reappeared in a flurry of orb-lights. "Anything?" she asked instead.

"The Elders think there has to be more to this than we're seeing," Leo said, looking pensive. "Nothing a Dark Priestess could cast—no matter how powerful she was—should've been too strong for the Power of Three to undo."

"In other words, nothing we didn't already know," he surmised with a sardonic smile. "And they prove useless yet again—why am I not surprised?"

Leo's expression was mildly reproving, but he didn't contradict him. "Magic that isn't able to take effect the way it's meant to is unpredictable," he explained. "Most of the time, all the power of a magical work is directed to a purpose. If part of that purpose can't be fulfilled, that leaves loose magic that can take on a purpose of its own, independent of what the caster intended. With something that was meant to cause harm in the first place…"

"It can't be doing anything good," Phoebe finished with a frown. "So you think…what, that the extra magic is somehow…locking down what the original spell _was_ able to do?"

"I don't know that for sure," Leo said with a shrug. "Like I said, this kind of thing is unpredictable, not to mention fairly rare. But it could be."

"'Could be' is more than the Elders gave us, anyway," he muttered. But that still left the same question unanswered: what were they supposed to do about it?

"But how could it be strong enough to do that?" Phoebe asked. "It shouldn't have done any irreversible damage." Rising, she turned toward the door. "I'll be right back," she said at his questioning look. "I just want to grab the Book. Maybe I can find a reference or something, now that we at least know what we're dealing with."

He chuckled to himself as she ran down the attic stairs. "With you, it's always 'go to the Elders'," he said to Leo, shaking his head. "With them, it's 'check the Book.' Although, frankly, the Book's more reliable. Not necessarily complete, but the information it does have is accurate."

"That book's been growing with the family for six generations," Leo said, not bothering to look affronted on the Elders' behalf. "And the girls have been adding to it for several years…you will, too, I imagine."

"Me?" he said in surprise, raising an eyebrow. "I'm no Halliwell witch."

"Doesn't matter," Leo said with a shrug. "You're part of the family, and you are the resident demonologist. I bet there're plenty of entries in the Book you could update; probably even some you could add."

Recording the remnants of his demonic past was not high on his to-do list at the moment, and he could just picture Piper and Paige's reactions to the idea of his writing in their family's sacred book. "Maybe," he said noncommittally, turning as Phoebe reentered the room, clutching the Book to her chest.

"When this is over," she said, dropping onto the sofa and setting the Book down on her lap, "I'm putting an entry in here on demonic spell backfire, or whatever this is. There's no explanation why the Power of Three didn't just bust through it."

"It should have," Leo said, shaking his head. "Even if the demonic magic could have drawn strength by feeding on Cole's own magic, it shouldn't have been enough to stand up to the Power of Three."

"How do you know it isn't?" Phoebe asked, absently tracing the triquetra on the Book's cover with a fingertip. "Feeding on his magic, I mean?"

"Deflection isn't a demonic power," Cole explained, answering before Leo could. "Dark magic can't feed on anything that's intrinsically good. It'd be like a poison to it. Toxic."

Phoebe bit her lower lip, her brow furrowing thoughtfully. "But it has to be feeding on something," she said. "And whatever it is has to be negative, and something our magic can't just erase—" She broke off suddenly, her face brightening as though with an epiphany. "That's it!"

"What's it?" he asked.

"It's feeding on your pain," she said, sobering quickly. "It has to be. That's the only thing I can think of that'd be enough to make it that strong—we've seen other magic that's been influenced by emotions, remember? Like when I was a banshee after we broke up that first time, or when closing off my heart turned me into a mermaid—"

"Or when Piper became a Fury when she bottled up her anger over Prue's death," he added, nodding as the puzzle pieces fell neatly together. "None of those were purely emotional; they were more like magic capitalizing on emotions to create a literal manifestation of—"

"Inner demons," they finished together. He laughed a little, half at the irony and half in relief. This was something they could fix—maybe not quickly or easily, but it could be done, and that was all that mattered.

"So if we just talk it out and get rid of the pain, that should destabilize the spell enough to break it," Phoebe surmised with a rueful half-smile. "I guess we should've done that long before this."

They should have. Running away been the cause of so many of their problems already; he should have known better than to let them try to bury the past, to try to put off confronting what they both had to face. "Better late than never," he said, returning a half-smile of his own.

"But so much went wrong," Phoebe said quietly. He saw her gaze turn inward, her eyes filling with memory's reflected pain. "Where do we even start?"

"The beginning is generally a good place," Leo advised, turning toward the door. "I'm going to go tell Piper and Paige that you're up here working on a reversal and to leave you alone." A short pause. "Take as long as you need."

With that, he left the attic, shutting the door behind him.

"'As long as we need' might be more time than we can afford," Cole observed with a sigh, meeting Phoebe's eyes. "It could take us months to work this out completely." Unspoken: 'And I don't want to be trapped like this until we do.' "Isn't there something in the Book that can help us deal with it a little faster?"

Phoebe flipped it open and began turning pages. "Using our magic to reverse evil magic doesn't count under the 'personal gain' clause, so it should be okay…as long as we find the right spell." She turned past an entry marked To Hear Secret Thoughts. "If we're going to be dealing with your pain, I think the best thing to do is go to the source. So far, the Mind Link spell looks closest to what we want—remember that one Paige and I used when the Source was messing with Piper's head?"

He read the page she indicated, then shook his head. "This looks like it's written to send two people into the mind of a third."

"It's a basis, okay?" she said, shutting the Book and giving him an impatient look as she set it aside. "I'm trying to ad-lib; work with me here." Rising, she crossed to the table in the center of the room and began pulling bundles of herbs toward her. "Can you just grab the candles and set up a pentagram in the middle of the room, please?"

He decided to go along with her: the ideas she got while acting spontaneously were usually her best. "Any special color?"

"Just use the white ones," she instructed, shredding some rosemary and grinding it in a mortar with some kind of powder and several other herbs he didn't immediately recognize. "They're all-purpose."

He located five white votive candles in the far corner of the room and began to arrange them around the rug in its center. "What're you doing? A potion?"

"Not exactly," she said, still grinding the contents of the mortar vigorously. "I'm going to add some oil to this, then dab it onto the candles, kind of as a focus…I have rosemary for memory, comfrey for healing and safe travel, mint for protection, and dragon's blood powder for potency." She stopped grinding and grinned, satisfied. "It gives the incantation a little extra kick."

"Dragon's blood powder?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "When have you been to the Enchanted Realm lately?"

"It's a resin, silly," she said with a laugh. "It's just called 'dragon's blood' because it's blood-red when it melts down." A short pause. "And your potions knowledge needs a little work, but we'll worry about that later. Right now," she said, heading for the door, "I need to grab the olive oil from the kitchen. Be right back."

She left the attic, and he knelt down in the center of the pentagram and waited. A moment or two later, footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Phoebe returned, holding a glass with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in it. Pouring that into the mortar, she picked up the pestle again, mixing the oil with the herbs and the powder. "Okay. Done."

She dipped her fingertips into the mixture and rubbed a little onto the wick of each candle before picking up a lighter. "I think I have a spell that should work," she said as she circled the pentagram, lighting each of the candles. Finally, sitting down beside him and taking his hand, she chanted:

"_Reveal the key so we can find  
In deepest reaches of the mind,  
The pain that within memory hides,  
And end it there where it abides."_

Phoebe's hand tightened around his, and he concentrated on that sensation to keep himself grounded as the room seemed to spin, a wave of dizziness sweeping over him. He was distantly aware of falling backward to the floor, and then his vision went dark.

"Cole?"

Phoebe's voice brought awareness back, and he opened his eyes and rose, gauging his surroundings. Large, open antechamber; no furniture; three identical doors against one wall. He was vaguely disappointed: he'd expected his mind to look a little more interesting than this.

"Now what?" he asked, and then started, surprised to hear his own, human voice instead of the more guttural demonic one. "How…?" Surely it couldn't be that easy!

Phoebe smiled, amused at his confusion. "The spell sort of…astral projected us in here, and the astral form is a more spiritual thing than physical. Your soul's good, so there's no reason it'd look demonic." Turning, she crossed the room to scrutinize the doors. "Any chance these mean anything to you?"

"No," he said matter-of-factly, moving to join her. "This place may be constructed out of my thoughts and memories, but it's not familiar to me." Reaching toward the door on the far right—simply because it was closest—he grasped the knob and tried to turn it. "It's locked."

Phoebe tested the other two doors. "Same with these. That's weird…my spell was specifically worded to 'reveal the key'. If it worked properly, there should be a key here."

"There isn't anywhere a key could be hidden here," he pointed out. "There's nothing but the doors." Reaching up, he felt along the top of each doorframe, knowing that was a common place for a key to be kept, but found nothing. Had the spell backfired?

"Ah-ha!" he heard Phoebe say triumphantly, and she extended her left arm toward him with a grin. Hanging from the bracelet she was wearing was a small, old-fashioned brass key. "Found it." Undoing the bracelet's clasp, she slid the key off and handed it to him.

"Now we're getting somewhere," he said with some satisfaction, crossing to the door on the left. "Door number one?" he asked, fitting the key into the keyhole.

Phoebe shrugged. "Whatever feels right to you," she said.

He made to turn the key, but it wouldn't budge. "It's not made for this lock," he said evenly. Was every step of this journey going to be difficult?

"So try another door," she said simply. "There're two more; it's got to fit one of them."

The center door also refused to open, and it was with some irritation that he slid the key into the lock of the last. "If it doesn't open this one," he informed Phoebe, "we're going to go home and try something else."

Fortunately (or unfortunately, perhaps; he wasn't sure yet), the key turned easily, and he heard a distinct _click_ as the lock's tumblers withdrew. _Finally._ Removing the key from the lock and pocketing it, he took a deep, steadying breath and eased the door open.

"Dammit," he muttered, looking down the corridor behind it with dismay. It was long and lined with still more doors on both sides. "Your turn," he said, handing the key over to Phoebe and leading the way in.

On closer inspection, he saw that a few of these doors were distinct from the others, marked with inverted pentagrams that glowed with a sickly red light. "I think those doors are the ones we're supposed to go through," he said. "Is it the spell that's marking them like that?"

"Not my spell," Phoebe said, shaking her head. "I think those pentagrams are a manifestation of the spell we're here to break." Moving closer to the nearest marked door, she grimaced and winced as she slid the key into the lock. "There's pain here. I'd say we're on target."

He stepped quickly forward, grasping her wrist to stop her from opening the door. "I don't think you'd better go in there, Phoebe. If you can sense pain by just being near the door…"

"They may be your memories," she said quietly, "but they're of things that have hurt us both. We're here to deal with this—together." Squaring her shoulders with resolve, she looked up into his face, her eyes defiant, daring him to disagree.

He sighed heavily and released her. She'd made up her mind, and it wasn't worth the effort it would take to argue. "Fine," he conceded. "But I want you to promise me—if you can't stand it, don't torture yourself. Get out."

She nodded agreement, then opened the door, and they stepped through.

_A/N: Sorry this chapter is late, but FF.N seemed to be having technical difficulties that prevented me from posting. By the way, as I'm a college student and gearing up for finals (not including three lengthy final essays), updates may be sporadic until approximately the 15th of May. I will try my hardest to maintain a once-weekly update schedule, but I may not be able to manage it. Please keep in mind that reviews are, as always, very good motivators--they inspire me. (I especially love specific comments.)_


	14. Coming to Terms

It was not like a premonition. She saw her premonitions from outside of herself, not through her future self's eyes; so it was a surprise, when she stepped through the door with Cole, not to find another room. She could still feel his hand in hers, and there was a floor beneath her feet, but she could see only what he had seen, immersed in the memory.

And in the Underworld, looking into the Seer's face.

"If I do this," she heard Cole's voice say, a little warily, "what do you see then?"

"A future," the Seer answered simply. "For both sides."

Her empathic power let her feel the suspicion he had then—and the self-reproach he felt now. Both emotions were equally strong, but there was a sense of immediacy to the latter that the former lacked.

She opened her mouth to reassure him that he couldn't have known what would happen, should not blame himself; but her view changed as Cole turned away from the Seer, and she was distracted when she heard him speak again, curious about what had gone on in spite of herself.

"Is this the great thing you saw us doing together?" he asked guardedly, still not turning to face the Seer.

"Perhaps," she said cryptically, and Phoebe felt hot rage surge up at the lie. She _would_ call Cole's being possessed by the Source a 'great thing', wouldn't she? Damn her!

_She should count herself lucky she's already dead,_ she thought darkly. _I'd like to kill her for this alone, never mind everything else she put us through._

"However," the Seer continued, "you won't ever know unless the Source is stopped first."

He stared broodingly into a candle flame, and she felt his indecision.

"It's your only chance to save your love," the Seer reminded him. Then he was resolved, and for an instant she felt the wild urge to cry out a warning before remembering that this was all in the past. Cole was beside her, safe. She squeezed his hand more tightly in mute reassurance.

The Seer was holding the Hollow's box in outstretched hands. Cole moved to stand in front of her, and she opened it—then all Phoebe saw was blackness, and her eyes and throat burned, and fire was surging through her veins, searing her blood—she bit back a cry, hearing Cole grunt with pain, then gasp as it abated.

All at once, the scene dissolved, and then she could see Cole beside her, breathing hard, and see the room they were in. There was a glass sphere on a pedestal in its center, and, drawing nearer and looking closely, she could see the memory still playing there.

What really drew her attention, though, was the lattice of crimson light wrapped around the glass, glowing malevolently—that, she guessed, was the magic that was keeping Cole trapped in demonic form. Turning away from the pedestal, she returned to Cole's side, feeling his pain, his regret, his bitterness.

"I guessed the Seer was up to something," he said after a long moment, half to himself. "Hell, I'd _been_ a demon for a hundred years; I knew better than to trust one. But when it came down to either working with her or letting the Source bring on the apocalypse—"

"I know," she cut in, reaching for his hands. "You couldn't let that happen." He'd been possessed by the Source because he'd chosen to save her, save everything. God, how, when he returned from the Wasteland, could she have called him evil? "If I'd just—"

It was his turn to interrupt. "Phoebe, we've had enough what-ifs to last an eternity. Dredging them all back up won't change anything." He freed one hand from hers and put his arm around her, drawing her close. "I did what I needed to do, and even knowing the consequences, I'd do it again. It was a bad decision, but it was the only one there was to make."

She saw a bright flash out of the corner of her eye, and she looked over her shoulder to find that the web of light had vanished from the sphere. "One down," she said as she turned back to him, managing a smile. "This memory's lost its ability to hurt you enough for the spell to feed on."

"They're only going to get worse," he said grimly. He wasn't afraid, exactly, but neither was he looking forward to what was to come.

That was all right. She wasn't, either. "We got through this one," she said firmly, hoping to reassure them both. "We'll get through the rest."

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said, and she took a moment to realize that he was referring to his memory of absorbing the Hollow.

"It doesn't matter," she told him. "But how'd you—"

He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "You're an empath—I know how empathy works. Besides, you squeezed my hand a little too tightly then for it to be just comforting," he said. "Couldn't have been anything but a pain reaction."

"Don't worry about it," she said, holding his gaze. "I love you. I'm prepared to go through much more for you than a little pain and some bad memories."

She felt his gratitude, but he made no answer. They released each other and returned to the corridor, the door shutting behind them of its own volition, and found the next marked door a few paces down. This time, he was the one to take her hand.

"It helps to stay together," he said as she retrieved the key with her free hand and slipped it into the lock.

She nodded, knowing what he meant: the contact had kept her grounded, too, kept her from losing herself entirely in the memory. They entered the room, and again, the vision enveloped them, and this time the emotions she felt—horror, fear, rage, the edge of despair—were far stronger, almost consuming.

She recognized the cavern from the previous memory, and again, the Seer was there. Cole moved quickly to stand in front of her, and she saw his arm extend in a flash as he took her by the throat.

"You never told me I would become the Source if I helped vanquish him!" he shouted.

_Oh, God,_ Phoebe thought, her own horror compounding his. If she was right, Cole had only just come to the realization of what was happening to him. "When was this?" she asked, hoping he could hear her.

A short pause. "The day you conjured up your past and future selves," came the answer. "I'd been hoping that the nightmares I'd been having didn't mean anything, but when it flamed me down there…denial stopped being an option."

"I told you of my vision," the Seer was saying urgently. She looked anxious, but not frightened—perhaps she knew that the Source would never let Cole strangle her. "Of you and I doing great things together. This is just the beginning!"

A wave of pain seared through her, and this time, her cry joined the memory's. Cole let go of her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, supporting her, and she watched as he, in the memory, released the Seer and fell heavily to his knees.

"You cannot change your fate," the Seer said earnestly. She bent, cupping his face in her hands, and Phoebe hated her all the more for that pretense at tenderness. "As you can see, the evil within you won't allow it." Releasing him, she drew back, still holding his gaze.

"I'll fight it!" Cole said, breathing hard. There was a note of quiet desperation in his voice. "I'll kill it! I'll find a way!"

"There is no way!" the Seer retorted. "If you weren't clinging to the love for your witch so vigorously, it would have overtaken you by now!" She moved behind him and said, almost silkily, "But it's only a matter of time."

She felt his dread, chilling and terrible, and knew that he knew the Seer was right.

The memory shattered, and she pulled him to her, holding him tightly and close. "It's over," she said softly, for her comfort as much as his. "My God, Cole, I'm so sorry—I should have realized—"

"You couldn't have known," he said, his voice low. "You couldn't have seen. The Source was strong enough to block any premonitions you might have had of what was happening to me."

"I shouldn't have needed my powers," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "You started to change overnight, and all I could do was sit there and rationalize it away. I would tell myself that you were just stressed, or tired, or still adjusting to being human…"

"And any of those things could have been true," he said, holding her more tightly. "It wasn't like I was wearing a flashing neon sign marked 'Possessed by the Source' and you ignored it. It knew how to use you, Phoebe. It used me and your love for me to use you."

"But I knew something was wrong," she protested, "and I just let myself believe it was cold feet! I love you; I'm supposed to know you—"

"And you do," he assured her. "Better than I know myself, sometimes. But you were too close to me to see the situation objectively. Didn't you tell me Piper was possessed by a life essence once, and neither you nor Prue figured it out until it was nearly too late?"

She nodded assent. "Yeah, but a life essence isn't the Source of All Evil."

"It's the same situation," he said, drawing back from her a little and gently tilting her chin up so their eyes met. "Love and trust can stop the family of someone possessed from seeing the truth. You can't blame yourself." He was quiet for a long moment. "I know you do, at least on some level. Your nightmare speaks for itself."

She didn't say anything.

"You said it yourself, Phoebe: it's over." He took her hands. "It was hell; I'm not pretending it wasn't. But it's in my past now, and as long as I have a future to live for, I can let it go." Another short pause, and then he smiled, gesturing behind her to indicate the sphere that held the memory. Turning, she found it free of any tracery of evil magic. "So can you."

"Maybe," she allowed. "Next door?"

He grimaced. "Just how many more of those damn things are there?"

"I didn't count," Phoebe said. "But we might not have to go through all of them—if we just get through enough, then the spell should weaken and fall apart on its own."

"Let's hope that doesn't take too many more," Cole said dryly as they left the room and continued down the corridor. "I know this is supposed to be a healing experience, but so far, all it's been is a pain—in all senses of the word."

"You can say that again," she said, managing a half-smile, and stopped before a third marked door. She couldn't help but wince at the pain she felt radiating from it, and hoped in vain that he hadn't noticed. "Ready?" she asked, taking his hand again and turning the key in the lock.

He took a deep breath and released it in a sigh. "As ready as I'm going to get," he said. "Are you sure you want to keep going through this? There's no need for you to suffer so I can come to terms with—"

"We've been through this," she said flatly. "You're not the only one these things hurt, and you need me. I'm going." Gripping his hand a little more tightly, she led the way in, and the memory engulfed them.

This time, she was looking at herself, dressed in a wedding gown. "Our wedding? But…" She paused, then realized. "It wasn't ours at all, was it?"

"No."

"We are gathered here tonight in the presence of these witnesses to join Cole Turner and Phoebe Halliwell in matrimony," the priest was saying. She listened with half an ear as he went through the ceremony, then started when she heard another voice, this one dark, malicious.

_It was almost too easy to lure her here. Whatever happened to 'she'll figure it out'?_

_The Source._ Then, with rising horror, _Cole had to watch it ruin his life, and listen to it mocking him for it._

The realization was enough to make her want to be sick, but even that paled in comparison to what she heard next: Cole's own voice, rough with anger and far weakened from his normal tones. She could feel his rage; feel the constriction of the Source's grip on him, like steel bands around her chest that kept her from drawing a full breath.

This was like smothering. Like living death.

_You won't be able to continue this charade forever,_ he said, his voice rising as he continued. _You're the Source! You're not capable of love; sooner or later, you'll slip up and be too harsh with her, and Phoebe will see the truth!_

The words of the ceremony, the vows, continued as an undertone, but she didn't hear them, hardly saw as the Source used Cole like a living puppet to go through the motions of the marriage.

_Why should she? _the Source said cruelly. _She's played along with every step of my plan so far. She's weak and foolish: it will be child's play to turn her._

_She's stronger than you think,_ Cole retorted. _And she'd never turn. She's too good._

Phoebe felt her cheeks burn with shame at what she'd done. Cole had trusted her to be strong, to save them both, and instead she'd become the Source's queen.

_She'd follow you to hell, and you know it, _the Source said. _Humans are so easily manipulated by appearances…as long as it's your face she sees and your hands that touch her, she'll never realize the difference._

_You don't love her. She'll see that._

_No, she won't. I don't have to love her,_ the Source said silkily, _because _you_ do. I keep your soul alive so that you can, and I can reap the benefits._

The scene vanished, and the voices fell silent, the pain of the memory ebbing. She gasped, then forced down the sob she felt rising in her throat. It would only make it worse for him to see her cry. "Oh, God," she whispered. "Oh, God."

She felt his arms wrap around her and leaned into him, resting her cheek against his chest, comforted by the steady sound of his heartbeat. "You were dying," she said quietly. He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "I felt it—you could hardly breathe…"

"I wasn't dying," he assured her. "Suffering, but not dying. The Source needed me alive; it wasn't going to kill me, at least not until I'd outlived my usefulness. I just…" He trailed off, quiet for a long moment, and then spoke. "I hated that ceremony," he said. "Every damn minute of it. Our wedding was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives, and I had to watch as the Source ruined and then profaned it."

She managed a half-smile. "I'll have to apologize for being so mean to Paige when we get home," she said, "considering it was actually the Source that sabotaged the wedding." She looked up into his face. "And then we will put those divorce papers through, and I'll find something in the Book to purify the rings and get any lingering demonic traces off them." At his questioning look, she explained, "I don't want anything from that—that _farce_ to follow us when we really do get married."

"And when will that be?"

Her premonition—well, theirs, she supposed, since they'd shared it—had placed the wedding date at about a month after Wyatt was born. There was no reason, though, why they couldn't move the timetable up a little if they wanted to… "We should wait until at least after Piper delivers," she said musingly, "and give everybody a little while to get used to having a baby in the house. After that, though…let's say, first lull in demonic activity, then we get married."

His smile lit his face and eyes, and she could feel his joy—the first positive thing she'd sensed since they'd gotten here. "It's a date," he promised, and then kissed her soundly.

She was surprised when they remained there after the kiss broke—he was so happy that it seemed inconceivable that there could be enough pain left to maintain the spell—but apparently they were stuck until they'd seen everything they needed to see. "I really hate to ruin your good mood," she said apologetically, glancing back and confirming that this memory was in fact decontaminated, "but…"

"Next door?" he said knowingly.

"Yeah," she said as they left the room. "Next door."

As they left the room, a flash of bright light swept down the whole of the corridor, the illumination almost blinding, and when it dimmed away, Phoebe could see only two more marked doors, side by side.

"It's weakening," Cole said, satisfied. "I think those two are the last of it."

She nodded confirmation and readied the key. "Brace yourself."

"I'm all right," he assured her. "It's you that's getting the worst of it."

"No," she said, shaking her head as she reached for his hand and turned the doorknob. "I'm just feeling what you felt. You were the one who had to live all this."

Behind the door, another small hell as the memory took them. Again, she was looking at herself, this time dressed in a black velvet gown, her eyes dark and intent on his.

_The coronation,_ she thought, and wished that she were not empathic, that she wouldn't have to feel his pain at what she was about to do. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"I know."

"Are you sure about this?" she heard Cole say. "You're giving up your life."

"My life is with you and our baby," came the answer, and she felt raw pain well up inside him, heard his own voice, suppressed and desperate, fighting in vain for control.

_Phoebe, no! For God's sake, get yourself and the baby out of here! Don't let this stupid fight with your sisters make you turn your back on everything you are—please don't let him make you—!_

_Silence!_ the Source commanded. She recoiled as she felt the order, a stinging, hot pain like the lash of a whip, and realized what the Source must have put Cole through. If it could cause him pain so easily, use it as a means of control…

Fighting would have meant torture, physical as well as mental.

And he'd fought anyway.

_She's made her choice._ The Source's voice dripped with sadistic pleasure. _The Charmed circle is broken; I will have my queen and my heir, and there is nothing you or anyone else will be able to do to stop it._ A short pause, and then dark laughter. _The Charmed Ones, destroyed by misguided love. If she could hear you now, railing at me…how it would torment her!_

"We'll be strong together," she said resolutely. "After all, we're family."

_This isn't family!_ Cole shouted. _This is a plot! He's just using you, waiting until he can get you to soil your hands with innocent blood and destroy you completely—!_

_She can't hear you,_ the Source taunted. _You're nothing but a lost soul, haunting a body and a life that belong to me—as she does. _Then it used Cole's voice to say, "I love you," and kissed her.

And then it was over, and the scene vanished.

"That, you can blame me for," she said quietly, not daring to look at him. She had caused him as much pain in that memory as the Source had. "I chose—"

"You were manipulated," he said, leaning down to meet her gaze; letting her see the understanding in his eyes. "And I'm not going to be a hypocrite and blame you for falling prey to evil when I've also lost control. We both have our dark sides."

"But what makes us good," she added, "is that we know they're there, and we choose not to give in to them."

He nodded assent. "You're not perfect, Phoebe, and I don't expect you to be. You were set up to fall, and I understood when you did…better than you think."

She felt his regret and realized what he was referring to—his old mentor's plot of two years ago, the slip that had cost Jenna her life. "You were disappointed in both of us," she said quietly.

"Yes. And that I wasn't able to throw off the Source's control long enough to make you realize—"

"You tried; that's all that matters. And I don't hold it against you that you couldn't. I know what it's like to be possessed." Dropping his hand, she moved closer, reached up to touch his face. "You need to let it go. Remember? We have a future to work on that we can't get to unless we get rid of all this emotional baggage."

He released a long sigh, and she turned to see the evil magic wrapped around the memory flicker and fade. "Last one," he said.

"Know what it is?" she asked as they left that room and neared the final door.

"I think so," he said contemplatively. "If I've interpreted it correctly, each one of the memories we just saw is standing for a whole range of moments that caused a particular kind of pain. Regretting bad choices, losing control, being caged in my own mind, watching you get hurt, being unable to stop you from hurting yourself…"

"So what's left?" she asked as she unlocked the door.

His answer, spoken as he took her hand and led the way through, was almost too quiet for her to catch. "Being hurt by you."

_Of course,_ she thought, feeling regret of her own as the memory wrapped around them and she saw herself, her back to him. _How could this not have hurt?_ Then, not without shame: _At the time, I meant it to._

"In time," he was saying, "you'll see we're meant to be together."

"Cole, if you say that again, I swear I'll scream!" she snapped, wheeling to face him. Her eyes were flashing, her face twisted with anger. "I want you out of my life!"

She felt his pain at those words, his heartbreak, but he hid it well, answering evenly, "I'll keep my distance. But I'm not going away. My love for you hasn't changed." She turned away from him again, and he took a step toward her. "It kept me alive in the Wasteland and led me back to you."

And then his voice again, the thoughts she had not heard: _Come on, Phoebe. If you're going to be angry, fine, but at least look at me and let me explain._

She whirled around, holding a letter opener taken from the desk in front of her, and pointed the metal blade at him.

She could sense that he wasn't afraid as he looked down at it, and his tone was confident when he said, "You won't use that." He reached forward and closed his hand around it. "I know you still love me, on some level deep inside."

In a silent retort, she wrenched the letter opener out of his hand, and Phoebe winced, fisting her hand reflexively as she felt the blade bite into his flesh. "You are seriously mistaken," her memory-self said coldly, "if you think I still love you in any way."

And the memory ended.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, wondering what good her apology could possibly do against so much damage. But there was nothing else she could say, no excuse she could make. "I'm so sorry."

There was no condemnation in his face when he looked at her; she could not sense blame, only a desire to understand. "Can you tell me why you said that?" he asked. "Even when you were angry, before, at least you'd always listened—we could always talk."

She drew a deep breath and released it slowly. "I was hurting," she said quietly. "I was hurting more than I'd even known it was possible to hurt, and it was easier to blame you and lash out at you than it would have been to do a little soul-searching and really ask myself why." She shook her head and looked down at the floor. "I didn't want to accept responsibility for my part in what happened. I didn't want to think of what'd happened to you. I just wanted to run, far and fast, and never look back."

"And then I called you."

"Yes, and then you came back," she confirmed, finally looking up at him. "And you were a living, breathing reminder of everything I didn't want to face. When you walked into the courthouse with that smug grin…" She shook her head, her voice rising a little with remembered anger. "My God, I could have killed you. I was in so much pain, and you looked like you'd just accepted the whole damn thing as a minor setback and moved forward; like it never happened."

He shook his head, his eyes wide, and she felt his incredulity. "That's what it looked like to you? Like I'd just—" Breaking off, he reached for her, and she let him pull her close. "You weren't the only one who got hurt—you know that now."

"But I didn't then," she said softly. "I was—an emotional basket case, and you looked so unaffected—I couldn't deal with you. And when I said those things, I was…trying to convince myself they were true, I guess." A long pause. She made herself hold his gaze. He deserved the truth.

"And if I'm honest, I was trying to hurt you. I was furious, and I just—I needed you to understand what I was going through, but I couldn't talk to you; I didn't even want to see you. So I tried to put you in the same pain I was in. It was a petty, vindictive thing to do, but at the time—"

"You weren't thinking straight," he broke in gently, "and neither was I. I should have known better than to…chase you like I did." He shook his head and offered a rueful half-smile. "And putting you on the spot like that in the courthouse wasn't one of my better ideas. I was being reckless."

One of the reasons that had scared her was that it'd been so unlike him: he'd been persistent before, but never aggressively so; never so she'd felt hunted. "Why?"

"Why?" he echoed. "Because I've never been good at sitting and waiting, and I had everything to lose. I was terrified that if I let you put that divorce through, you'd cut me out of your life for good."

She didn't know whether or not she would have. If he'd kept his distance and left her alone, would she ever have tried to fix things between them? Without Light Magic's intervention to remove the threat of his demonic powers, without the premonition to assure her of where their path would lead, would she have had the nerve?

"I'd made you my whole life, Phoebe," he continued. "You and your family. When everything went to hell, at least you had your sisters to help you deal with the pain. I had nowhere to turn, and I got desperate."

In that light, his actions made sense. She didn't know what she would have done if she hadn't had Piper and Paige to help her through the weeks after they'd vanquished Cole to take out the Source, especially after what had become of what would have—in other circumstances—been her baby. Her family's love and support had kept her from falling apart.

Cole didn't have any family except hers, and they'd all turned on him. Add that to the debilitating effects of the myriad of powers he'd absorbed, and it was no wonder that he'd been so frantic. Emotional pain and Dark magic together had been slowly consuming him.

"I understand," she said quietly. "I should have listened before I ran. I let my fear and my anger control me, and you paid for it. I—"

He pressed a fingertip to her lips, cutting her off. "It doesn't matter anymore," he told her, and let his hand fall back to his side. "We're together now; we can put the regret behind us. But from now on—"

"When we need to talk," she finished for him, half-smiling, "we talk. No more letting misunderstandings come between us."

"Agreed."

She saw the last traces of the Dark Priestess' spell fall away from the memory, and then the key in her hand dissolved into blinding light. She squeezed her eyes shut against the glare, suddenly lightheaded, and held onto Cole more tightly as she felt the room seem to spin—and then she felt a jolt, and they were no longer there.

_A/N: Sorry for the delay—I had an absolutely hellish week writing essays. (Just a tip: try to avoid going 48 straight hours without sleep. It's not fun.) On the other hand, writing this was enough fun that I suppose it balances out. Oh, and if any of you are so inclined, I'd really love a couple of specific comments in return for the nice long chapter. Long reviews are great; short ones are wonderful, too. Please, just say something, because I'm still ridiculously overworked and having reviews to read cheers me up. (Note that my finals end on the 18th, but I may not be able to post until then.)_

_As a side note, you probably recognize some dialogue from "Charmed and Dangerous", "The Three Faces of Phoebe", "We're off to see the Wizard" and "A Witch's Tail (Part 1)." At the risk of being obvious, all credit for it goes to the writers of those episodes._


	15. Breaking the News

Opening his eyes, he found himself back in the attic, staring up at the ceiling beams. He could feel the pressure of Phoebe's hand still closed around his, and the candles around them had not burned all that much lower, so he surmised that their little trip into his memories hadn't taken as long as it had seemed to.

"Phoebe?" He sat up and gently nudged her shoulder, relieved to find himself human again. As difficult as it had been to confront his past pain that way, it had accomplished what it'd been meant to. He was free—physically and emotionally. "Wake up."

Her eyes opened and looked up into his, and a wide smile spread over her face as she sat up and brought her arms around him. "You're okay?"

"Thanks to you," he said, returning her embrace. "How long were we out?"

Drawing back a little, she broke their embrace and consulted her watch. "A little more than an hour, I think," she answered, and then yawned. "It's late. We should go to bed—just a second while I get the candles." She blew them out one by one, sending wisps of smoke spiraling upward, then led the way down the attic stairs and turned toward her bedroom.

He moved to head for his room, but she caught his hand. "Where are you going?"

"To bed," he said, suppressing a yawn. "I've had a long night and I'm tired."

She tilted her head in the direction of her room. "Then come to bed with me."

It wasn't that the prospect wasn't attractive, but still…_this_ was her idea of good timing? "Maybe later."

She swatted his arm lightly, her expression one of pretended reproach. "Not for that! I meant to sleep—as in, really sleep, like with clothes. Please?"

That single heated liaison aside, they hadn't shared a bed in ages—and in some ways, this was just as intimate a gesture. That she would choose to sleep beside him in the cool light of reason meant a restoration of old trust. "Are you sure? Emotionally, you're probably a little vuln—"

"I'm fine," she cut in. Holding his gaze, she reached up and undid the clasp of the chain she wore around her neck, letting the shining gold band that had hung there slip off and fall into her palm. Then she offered it to him and extended her hand, her expression expectant.

It seemed clear what she was asking him for, but did she mean it? Or was she going to regret this in the morning, once she'd recovered from the shock of all she'd seen tonight? "You're certain this is what you want?" he asked, just to be sure. "We're not in any rush."

"I'm certain," she answered with a nod. "I learned a lot tonight, and I understand things that I couldn't before. The past and the present are separate in my mind now, and that's what I was waiting for—it feels right to do this."

Searching her face, he found only sincerity there. Satisfied that there were not going to be unpleasant repercussions, he took her proffered hand and slid the ring onto her finger, where it settled into its former position just above her engagement ring.

She flexed her fingers, testing the feel of the ring, and then smiled up at him. "Perfect."

Her happiness thrilled him. This time, _he _had been the one to put that ring on her finger, and she was glad to have it there. "Yes," he agreed. "Perfect." Drawing back from her, he turned toward what was temporarily his room. "I'm just going to grab something to sleep in, and I'll meet you in a second."

"And I'll get an extra pillow out of the closet and turn the bed down—you still like to sleep on the left?"

He brought up a hand to cover his mouth as he yawned. "Anywhere next to you," he said, his voice thick with fatigue. "Left, right—really too tired to care, as long as it's not the floor."

"Left it is," she said with a yawn of her own, passing the linen closet on her way to the bedroom and grabbing a pillow. "Don't take too long, or I'll be out cold by the time you come in."

He changed clothes quickly, leaving the ones he'd been wearing in a heap on his bed—_I'll put them in the laundry later_—then joined Phoebe in her bedroom. The lamp on the nightstand was on, casting pale light, and Phoebe was already in bed, eyes shut. At the sound of his footsteps, however, she opened them and motioned him over.

As tired as he was, he needed no further invitation. Dropping onto the bed, he pulled the covers up and closed his eyes.

He heard the light click off, and the rustling of the sheets, and then he felt Phoebe's weight shift on the mattress and the soft warmth of her body curling into his side. She reached over to tug at his sleeve, and he took the hint and put his arm around her. "Love you," she murmured sleepily.

"Love you, too." He could feel her chest rise and fall with her breathing, already deepening into the even rhythms of sleep, and smiled to himself. To be together like this, pressed close in the familiar bed—this was _right_, right in a way things had not been in months, and he was content and at peace when sleep took him.

Bright light streamed into his eyes, and Cole opened them, blinking in the intensity of the glare and momentarily surprised to find himself in Phoebe's bed, his thoughts still fogged with sleep. _What…?_ Then he remembered: Klea's attack, the failed reversal spell, their journey through his memories. _That was one hell of a night…_

"Cole?" He felt Phoebe stir against him and heard her yawn as she reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes. "You awake?"

"Barely," he said thickly, glancing over at the alarm clock, where glowing red numerals proclaimed it seven A.M. "It's only seven in the morning." To himself, he thought, _I haven't had to do mornings since the Brotherhood put me through law school. _"What time do you need to be at work?"

"Quarter to eight," she said, extricating herself from his embrace and crossing to her dresser to locate something to wear for the day. "It doesn't matter, though. I'm going to call Elise in a minute and tell her that I'll e-mail the column to her this afternoon."

He'd met Elise once, albeit under the control of the Source and very briefly, but he'd gleaned enough from that encounter to know that the woman wasn't going to take kindly to a call like that, especially given Phoebe's somewhat erratic work schedule. "Why? It's still a little early to tell, but there shouldn't be any demonic emergencies today."

"I know that," she said, buttoning the blouse she'd just put on and smoothing a wrinkle out of her skirt, "and that's why today is a perfect day to take some time to talk to my sisters."

He barely managed to suppress a groan. _And last night wasn't stressful enough?_ "Phoebe," he pointed out reasonably, "your sisters are only tolerating me because they're under the impression that any week now, the Elders are going to give me permission to leave the manor and your lives."

"No, they're not," she disagreed, pulling her hair back into a barrette. "They've seen me with my ring around my neck, and they wouldn't have missed the post-coital glow a couple of days back, even if they didn't call me on it. Trust me—they know we're involved, and Piper will've managed to get enough of that premonition out of Leo to know where we're going."

"Phoebe!"

_Speak of the witch…_

Piper's voice carried up the stairs. "Phoebe! If you want breakfast and not just coffee on the way out the door, you'd better get down here!" A brief pause. "Did you manage to fix Cole last night, or should I bring something up so he can eat away from the windows?"

So nice to know his welfare was a matter of concern.

"He's fine!" Phoebe called down, ducking back into her closet and rummaging through it. "We'll be down in a minute!" Lowering her voice again, she said to herself, "Now, where did I put…got it."

She turned back toward him, and he saw that she had a large cardboard box in her arms. He sat up and glanced into it, then let out a laugh. "So…_that's_ where all those clothes went." When he'd returned from the Wasteland, he'd suspected Phoebe and her sisters had had something to do with his personal effects suddenly vanishing from the penthouse, but he hadn't expected that she would have kept them.

"We had to make it look like you'd walked out and vanished," Phoebe said apologetically, handing him a pair of jeans and a sweater. "Otherwise…"

He was familiar with the laws. "Otherwise, when I was reported missing by someone at the firm," he finished for her as he dressed, "it would have looked like homicide, and you'd have been at the top of the suspect list."

"That's what Darryl said," she confirmed with a nod, setting the box down. Then, changing the subject, she said, "You can go through this later, if you want to. I think we got pretty much everything."

"Later," he agreed.

"Phoebe!" Piper's voice again, distinctly more irritated this time. "You're going to be late for work if you don't hurry up, and this family cannot afford your getting fired!"

Phoebe heaved a sigh and reached for the phone. "Always with the finances," she muttered as she dialed. "Hi, Elise? I'm going to have to e-mail the column in today—yes, I _know_ it's the fourth time this month…I know, but this is really important—thank you!" She hung up and relaxed visibly, then turned to him. "Another 'if I weren't so good for circulation, I'd be fired', but she's letting it go. Come on."

He suppressed a sigh, knowing even as he did that her empathic power let her sense the dismay he was trying to hide, and followed her out the bedroom door and downstairs.

In the kitchen, everyone was already seated, and the usual breakfast spread was on the table. Paige was spreading jam on a bagel, Piper was pouring coffee, and Leo was reading the newspaper.

"Good morning!" Phoebe said brightly as they entered. Everyone looked up at them, and he offered a nod and a smile that was more cheerful than he actually felt before sinking onto the chair beside Phoebe's.

"Morning, Phoebe," Piper returned, passing them each a mug of coffee before sitting down next to Leo. "Cole. Good to see you back to normal."

"Thanks," he said, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee and reaching for a bagel. "It's good to be back. Anything big planned for the day?" He half-hoped one of them would say yes, so Phoebe might decide to wait for another day to announce their engagement. He wanted some time to enjoy the reality of it before she brought her sisters in and they made it the subject of an argument.

Paige shook her head. "No, and with any luck, it'll stay that way. After the Sandman disaster yesterday, it'd be nice to have a little hiatus from the demon attacks, at least until after the baby's born." She turned to Leo. "The Elders said four days from now, right?"

Leo put the newspaper down and nodded. "Yes. Apparently the baby is the subject of much discussion Up There—I'm not exactly sure why. After all, it's not like he's the first witch/Whitelighter hybrid…" He trailed off, then shrugged. "Probably just the Elders being the Elders."

_That is, annoying, secretive, and generally useless,_ Cole thought.

"Probably," Phoebe agreed. "It doesn't matter. Let them click-click about him Up There all they want—the point is that down here, _you_," she added, turning her attention to Piper, "are going to have a beautiful, healthy son."

Piper smiled fondly as she patted the swell of the baby. "It's not fair that you got to see him first," she said to Phoebe, pretending irritation. "What was the context of that premonition, anyway? The birth, or…?"

_Dammit._

"Actually," Phoebe said, toying absently with the ring on her finger, "I saw Leo holding him at my wedding." She offered a smile, looking to her sisters with eyes seeking approval.

"Your wedding," Piper echoed in measured tones, giving him a sharp look. "Holy matrimony this time, I hope?"

Phoebe nodded, her expression uncertain—wondering, perhaps, when the explosion was going to come. "Grams was officiating."

"Okay," Piper said simply. "I'm not going to pretend I'm completely happy about it, but I'm not going to make my issues your issues. If there's one thing I learned last year, it's that we have no right to put you in the middle and demand that you choose between him and us." She was quiet for a moment, then added soberly, "If we'd been confiding in each other and working together instead of putting you on the defensive, maybe we could have cut the disaster off before it went as far as it did."

_They probably could have,_ Cole thought, not without some regret He'd learned a long time ago that the strength of the Power of Three was rooted in the witches' sororal bonds, andthe Source had made ruthless use of that knowledge. _There was a good reason so much of his master plan involved cultivating infighting._

"Wait a minute," Paige broke in, sounding a bit surprised. "That's it? We're okay with this?"

"We're accepting the inevitable," Piper corrected, her expression indecipherable. "For whatever reason, Cole makes Phoebe happy, and while God knows he's not the man I'd've chosen for her, if she wants him, she'll have him with or without our blessings." There was a long silence, then she sighed and said to Paige, "Look, we've made the whole thing into a fight before, and all it did was hurt Phoebe. One thing we all agree on—we don't want that, and neither does he."

"Thank you," Cole said, shooting Piper a grateful look. "I don't want to fight with you over this. I don't want to cause Phoebe any pain, and believe it or not, I don't want to hurt this family, either. I understand that you have issues with trusting me, and I accept that. Just please," he continued, keeping his voice level, "don't make my relationship with Phoebe part of those issues."

Paige held his gaze, her expression serious. "We had a pretty good idea this was coming," she said at last. "You know, the whole marriage thing. It's just—well, we've been around that block before, and—"

"Actually," Phoebe cut in, "we haven't. Cole had nothing to do with the disaster of that last marriage—it was the Source that was working to destroy our family. So don't blame Cole for what happened, because it was just as much of a living hell for him as it was for us."

Paige heaved a sigh and looked down into her coffee cup, pensive for a long moment before she finally answered. "It's not that," she said. "I can accept that it was the Source screwing with us—I haven't been in the witch business as long as you have, but I've been under demonic influence; I've seen you as a mermaid and Piper as a Fury. I've also," she added, returning her attention to him, "seen you as a demon, a full-on, out of control demon, and you scared the crap out of me."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she raised a staying hand. "Let me finish. I've seen you do good—I know you can be good. But I've also seen that entry in the Book, and that woman whose fiancé you killed, and the reality is that he was one of many in a long career. I know people can change, but it's hard for me to believe that that dark side isn't still part of you, demonic powers or not."

He sipped his coffee in the silence that followed, choosing his words carefully. "The out of control monster you saw in the attic that night is dead," he said evenly. "He _was_ my dark side—there's nothing left in me that's inherently evil."

"But—"

Now it was his turn to cut her off. "I'm not saying I'm infallible: I have the capacity for both good and evil. But everyone does—that's not a demonic trait. That's just human."

"Yeah, well, humans can be just as evil as demons," Paige said dryly. "Humanity and morality don't automatically go together."

He regarded her steadily. "In my experience, they do. Humans grow up with values—they're taught the difference between right and wrong, and that that difference matters. And they _have_ choices, even if they make bad ones. Demons don't." He looked past her, remembering his own upbringing. "Demons are uniformly made to be killers. It's not just what they do—it's what they _are_. There's no such thing as 'right' or 'wrong' in the demonic mindset, just thirst for power. Whatever they have to do to amass more, they do, and anything that gets in the way is…irrelevant."

"Speaking from experience?" she said coolly.

He nodded. "I lived that way for over a hundred years; I'd be the last one to deny that there's a lot of innocent blood on my hands. But I've changed since then, and I'm not going to let my past define my future."

"And how much do you know about that future?" Piper asked Phoebe, jumping in when he fell silent and cutting off Paige's reply, diffusing the tension that had crept in. "Did you just see your wedding, or was there more after it?"

Phoebe nodded. "We're going to have a daughter—oh, don't worry; I'm not pregnant yet," she said quickly, catching Piper's look of mixed surprise and alarm. "But probably within the next couple of months."

Piper relaxed visibly, which suggested that she'd been more concerned with the timing than the prospect of Phoebe's pregnancy in and of itself. "Good thing I haven't gotten around to returning all that stuff I bought when we thought I was having a girl," she said with a fond smile, and reached across the table to give her sister's hand an affectionate squeeze.

Well, she'd taken that news better than he'd thought she would. He'd half-expected that any child of his blood would be classed as evil demonic spawn and condemned outright.

Before anyone could say anything more, a jingling sound filled the room. He glanced around for its source, and Phoebe laughed. "It's the Elders," she explained, "calling for Leo. Sometimes they let us hear it, sometimes not. When they do, though, it usually means they have something important to tell us."

He had a feeling that whatever the Elders felt was 'important', everyone else would feel was just generally a royal pain to deal with. It probably wouldn't be long, he thought, before that jingling elicited the same dismay from him that it was from the rest of the family (well, Leo excepted).

"It'd better be important," Piper grumbled, glaring darkly up at the ceiling before returning her attention to her husband. "They don't usually call you this early." The exasperation left her face, and worry quickly clouded it. "Could it be something about the baby?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I can," he promised, then pressed a kiss to her cheek and orbed out.

"We'd better hope it's just baby news," Paige said grimly after a moment. "Because if it's not, the only other thing it could be is some serious demonic threat." Her expression was one of distaste, and he couldn't blame her: after the events of the previous night, he wasn't particularly eager to hunt demons for a while, either.

There was a long silence, during which they all picked at their forgotten breakfasts. Finally, Phoebe pushed her coffee cup aside—a conspicuously loud sound, after minutes had passed with relatively little noise—and looked to Piper. "So…you're okay?" she said at last. "You and Paige? With…us?" She made a vague gesture, indicating him and herself.

Paige answered first. "You know him better than I do," she said. "And even if I don't completely trust him, I'll trust you."

"Thank you," Phoebe said with a nod, accepting her sister's words. "Piper?"

"You know me, Pheebs," Piper said, half-smiling. "The family is the most important thing with me, and it's always going to be. But if you've seen a happy future with him…honey, I want you to be happy. And if that means having Cole in our lives, then so be it. I'd much rather accept him into the family than hurt you and rip it apart." She turned to him. "I know you well enough to trust you a little," she said quietly, "but I'm not ready to forgive. Not yet."

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness," he said soberly, holding her gaze, "or even your trust. They'll come with time—probably years of time. Your acceptance is enough."

Orb-lights glittered as Leo reappeared, his expression somewhat stunned. Immediately, Piper's attention left Cole and fixed on the Whitelighter. "Okay, Leo, spill it," she said flatly. "What _lovely_ little bombshell do the Elders have for us this morning?"

Leo dropped heavily back into his chair. "When three planets burn as one over a sky of dancing light," he said, his tone that of one reciting something carefully memorized, "magic will rest on a holy day to welcome a twice-blessed child."

"What?" Piper demanded.

Leo shook his head slowly, reaching to touch his wife's bulging abdomen with what looked quite like reverence. "He's going to be like nothing the world's ever seen, Piper," he said quietly. "He's so special that all the magic on Earth is going down the day he's born."

"Yeah, that's really great," Cole said shortly, bypassing the initial impulse to be impressed with the significance of the birth and moving straight on to concern, "but while magic is down, he's vulnerable. We all are."

"We'd better not be," Piper said grimly. "Demons have numbers we don't…if it comes down to a fight, I'll be in labor and out of commission, and Leo and Paige have only minimal experience with hand-to-hand combat. Phoebe, you and Cole have experience, but I still wouldn't bet on you against a whole horde of demonic forces."

Paige stood up and squared her shoulders with resolve. "Well, if we have to fight, we're not going to be unarmed," she vowed. "We still have all those weapons in the basement, and I think I can…whip up…a couple more." Passing the spice cabinet, she grabbed several jars, then sprinted upstairs to the attic.

Phoebe looked pensive. "Wait a minute…you said 'all magic on Earth', right? What about Enchanted Realm magic?"

"It shouldn't be affected," Leo said, "so we don't need to worry about that—we're the ones who'll be in danger. Still, the Elders said they'd send us something for protection."

"I don't want to rely solely on the Elders," Phoebe said, then turned to him and grinned. "I've got an idea."

_A/N: Terribly sorry for the long wait, but I really needed to take a week to recalibrate my internal clock, as the last month or so of the semester forced me to play havoc with my sleep cycles. Now that I'm rested, however, I've settled back into my writing, and we should be back on weekly updates…let's say next Friday for the next one. That said, can you please welcome the story back with some reviews? I adore your comments (especially specific ones), and they motivate me to write._


	16. Preparations Begin

"Pass me the thyme?" she asked Cole, rummaging through the cabinets for the honey. Locating it, she shut the cupboard door—she wouldn't need it until later. "It should be on the spice rack."

"Got it." He pressed the jar into her hand and turned to face her. "What are you doing, exactly?"

Taking the lid off the thyme, she began to shake the dried spice into a small bowl. "Enchanted Realm magic won't be down while Piper's giving birth," she explained, "so if we want protection, it has to be from beings that can use that magic. And thyme," she finished with relish, replacing the lid on the jar and returning it to its place, "attracts fairies, which definitely fit the bill. Scatter it around in the backyard and leave out food, and they should come right over. If we're lucky, they'll agree to give us a hand."

"Fairies can be a little unpredictable," he said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "And they're mischief-makers by nature—out for their own amusement. What makes you think they'll care about our situation?"

"I'm hoping to call in a debt of gratitude," she said with a shrug. "A couple of years ago, we helped a little girl down the street save the fairy princess from trolls—not long after I met you, actually. Remember when you found Prue and me acting like hyper little kids?"

A look of realization crossed his face, followed by a slow smile. "I thought that had to be a backfired spell…don't tell me it was—"

"Fairy dust," she finished for him. "It would've been nearly impossible to save a fairy from trolls when we couldn't see either. But the point is that we _did_ save her, and that means the fairies owe us one."

"They do," he said after a moment's consideration, "and if they agree to help you, they'll be bound to their word. But whatever you do, keep the terms of the agreement clear and specific, and watch for double meanings. Their nature is to play tricks wherever they see an opening."

_Is this really going to be so complicated?_ she wondered, setting the bowl of thyme aside. "Maybe you should be the one to deal with the fairies, and I can help stockpile weapons," she suggested. "After all, you're the one with the legal experience."

"I'm also an ex-demon who spent a hundred years terrorizing the magical community at large," he pointed out ruefully, and she felt the echo of his regret. "I'd be very surprised if my past reputation didn't go as far as the Enchanted Realm, and if it did, I'd be one of the last people they'd want to talk to."

"Okay, fine," she agreed, raising a staying hand. "I'll take care of the fairies; you handle the armament. We keep our athames and some other weapons in a trunk in the attic, and those swords we used last year should still be in the basement if you want one."

He shook his head and turned toward the kitchen door. "I prefer to use an athame," he said. "Always have. They're lighter and easier to handle." He paused, then added, "We should see what Paige is up to, though, before we make any definite plans. Where is she?"

"In the attic," Phoebe said, closing the distance between them and starting up the stairs. "Coming?"

"Don't you have fairies to contact?" he asked, falling into step behind her.

"I'm waiting for midnight, when they'll be easier to find," she told him, pausing at the attic door. "You know about the thing with Enchanted Realm beings and tweens? How the veil between their realm and ours—"

"Is thinnest in places and at times that are caught between two extremes?" he finished for her, offering a smile.

"Right," she said, returning one of her own. "Sorry. You might need to brush up on witch-type magic, but general knowledge hasn't ever been your problem." _More like ours,_ she thought. _Even after nearly five years, there's so much we still need to know…_ Paige?" she called through the door. "How's it going in there?"

"Just a second!" A short pause, and then the sound of something being set down, and Paige opened the door with a grin. "Who knew my rebellious past would come in handy?" she said, leading them to the table in the center of the room, now filled with an assortment of objects. "We have one pipe bomb, one flammable aerosol can, four cayenne pepper spray straws, and—as soon as it sets—one saltpeter candle, which should give us a roomful of smoke in seconds. So…what do you think?"

Phoebe could sense her sister's pride in her work. "It's…really something," she said honestly, managing a smile. "But don't you think some of this stuff is a little dangerous?"

"No more dangerous than a horde of attacking demons," Paige said, waving a dismissive hand. "Besides, it's not like we don't blow up parts of the house every week, right?"

It was true that the manor had gone through some fairly heavy abuse in the past few years, but they'd always stopped short of burning it to the ground. "As long as you're sure we can control what burns," she said at last. "Otherwise, the demons will be the least of our problems."

Paige looked over at the hardening candle, poking it with the end of one of the straws to test the consistency of the wax. "This is just about done," she said, sounding satisfied. "How's Piper?"

"The whole 'twice-blessed' thing got her a little worked up," she said ruefully, looking away from the array of homemade weapons and meeting Paige's gaze. "Leo's calming her down in the conservatory."

"Okay," Cole said. "So we've got Paige's weapons, possibly fairy protection, and whatever negligible defense the Elders see fit to—"

"_Leo!"_

Phoebe jumped, startled, at the sound of Piper's shriek. "Oh, she had better not be going into labor from all this stress," she muttered, and headed for the attic stairs at a run, Paige hot on her heels and Cole's footsteps following sedately behind.

Even as she neared the bottom of the stairs, it was obvious what had upset Piper. She was standing in the conservatory doorway, staring with an aghast expression at the unicorn in the living room, which was calmly munching on one of Grams' doilies.

Phoebe felt her temples begin to throb painfully—an echo of what she knew had to be Piper's headache. "Nice unicorn," she said cajolingly as she approached it, a little wary of the animal's protruding horn. "_Good_ unicorn…good girl. Okay." Maneuvering around to stand at the unicorn's side, she freed the tag she saw tied around its neck and read aloud, "To Baby Halliwell, from Elders."

Cole joined Paige at the bottom of the stairs, giving the unicorn an appraising look. "Not bad," he said approvingly. "Looks like the Elders had the same idea you did about using Enchanted Realm magic…maybe they're not completely useless after all."

Piper, somewhat less shocked but still regarding the unicorn with distaste, sighed and nodded acceptance. "File that horn, and we won't be looking at a total outage. It's pure, concentrated magic, which we should be able to use as a power source."

"That's one problem solved," Paige said brightly, moving to stand next to the animal and reaching to stroke its mane. "We'll have magic and the demons won't, so we can vanquish any that're stupid enough to attack, and you can labor in peace."

"There's no such thing as a peaceful labor, Paige," Piper said darkly. "You should know; you were the one who watched the tape that came with that stupid birthing ball. Labor hurts like hell unless you do it _in a hospital_ with a nice epidural."

This was hardly the first time they'd heard Piper hint not-so-subtly that she wanted a hospital birth, but now Phoebe winced as she a fresh wave of her sister's agitation. "Piper, I know how you feel—really—but can you try to calm down a little? And maybe do something about your headache?"

Piper looked apologetic, then drew a deep breath and released it in a sigh, obviously trying to calm herself down. "Sorry. With your news and the prophecy, and now this—this _unicorn_ in our freaking _living room_—I kind of forgot about the empath thing."

"Try not to," Cole said dryly, moving to Phoebe's side. He looked calm, but she could feel his concern for her. "Too many emotions, too much at once—it's a useful power, but it can also do real damage."

His concern was valid—after all, he would know just how much damage, having used it as a weapon once, in an early attempt to destroy them. She remembered Prue's brief stint as an empath, how her confidence had turned to terror as the power escaped her control and the cacophony of others' emotions threatened to overwhelm her and lead to madness.

But she also knew that Prue hadn't been meant to have that power, and that that had been a factor in her trouble with it. In Phoebe's own case, the empathic gift had come naturally. She'd believed since discovering her powers that magic always happened for a reason, and she couldn't think that she would have been given an ability she couldn't handle.

"I'm okay," she assured him. Then, sensing his skepticism, "Really. I'll get used to it."

He gave her a look that meant they would have to talk later, but elected to drop the matter for now. Turning to Leo, he asked, "Are the Elders sure that no demons know the prophecy?"

"They didn't say." A look of concern flashed across the Whitelighter's face, and Phoebe felt his fear for Piper and the baby. "Why?"

"Because if they know how powerful this child's going to be, they'll come after him," Cole said grimly. "And they won't be stupid enough to do it when magic goes down. Demons only fight when they're sure they can win; they don't like even odds."

She didn't doubt he was right: he knew how demons thought. But if they wanted the baby without having to deal with the outage… "They'll target Piper," she said quietly.

He nodded. "They won't be able to harm her as long as she's carrying—not with the protection she has from the baby's powers—but if they time an attack correctly and can capture and hold her—"

"We get the idea," Paige said, raising a staying hand to cut him off. "So what are you saying? Protection during the outage shouldn't be our first priority?"

"Protection during the outage is covered," he said to her, gesturing to indicate the unicorn. "As you said—we'll have magic; they won't. What you _don't_ have is protection now."

"They have their powers," Leo said with a frown, "and the Power of Three. There's no stronger protection than that."

Cole looked exasperated. "No, there's no stronger _weapon_ than that," he corrected, "and yes, they can repel most attacks. But _every_ attack is a needless risk when a few good wards could stop all but the most powerful demons from entering the house in the first place."

"Not a bad idea," Paige agreed, abandoning the unicorn and moving to stand next to Piper. "With the baby on the way," she added, giving her sister's swollen belly a gentle pat, "we should definitely be battening down the hatches and making the manor as safe as possible. I'm done with the weapons, so I'll hit the Book and work on putting together a ritual to raise some wards."

"I'll help," Phoebe volunteered, already heading for the stairs. Then, to Piper, "You really should be off your feet, honey. Get some rest and unwind."

Piper made a face. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid," she snapped. Then, more calmly, "I'm going to find Leo's toolbox and file some dust off this thing's horn. The sooner I do, the sooner it will be out of my house."

"Okay," Phoebe said. It would be better not to argue with Piper; she'd only get more worked up. "You do that." Turning to Cole, she asked, "This was your idea…care to join us? Watch, learn, maybe give some input?"

"Why not?" he said with a shrug, following her and Paige up to the attic. "Piper and Leo seem to have the magical livestock under control, and I have to learn these things at some point."

Now wasn't, perhaps, the best time for a crash course in Wicca 101, but she'd been a witch long enough to know that it wasn't like they'd be able to schedule a better one—if he was going to learn, he'd do it in between demonic attacks, just as they had.

It was a good thing, she reflected as she reached for a pad and pencil, that he was a quick study. "So," she said, looking up at Paige, who was already leafing through the Book, "what did you have in mind?"

"We need to protect the house," Paige said, continuing to turn pages. "I was thinking we could kind of use the power it already gives us, and put that into the wards. I remember reading something in here about Halliwell Manor being built on a spiritual nexus? The center of a pentagram?"

"Uh-huh," Phoebe confirmed with a nod, then frowned. "But Paige, we are _not_ going to mess with the Nexus. The last time—"

"I'm not saying we dig up the demonic essence in the basement," Paige cut in, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm saying that the house is a big part of our power base _because_ it's on the Nexus."

She felt a note of surprise from Cole and looked back over her shoulder at him, standing near the potions worktable. "What is it?"

"There's a demonic essence in your basement?" he echoed incredulously.

"Not exactly demonic," she explained. "Just powerful, and with the capacity to do a lot of damage. It can be used for good or evil, depending on who controls the manor. Grams taught us a spell to banish it when we were kids, in case it ever got loose…I'll show you later; it's definitely one of those 'need to know' things." She returned her attention to her sister. "You were saying?"

"That maybe we can cast a spell over the Nexus," Paige said. "It's the pentagram's center—we'd be the five points, each representing an element. Between all of us, any protective spell we cast should pack a hell of a lot of punch."

"It's a great idea in theory, Paige," she said, moving to the younger witch's side, "but it sounds complicated. We'd have to get the measurements just right when we're setting the pentagram up, and the correspondences—"

"Which is why you're helping," Paige interrupted, shutting the Book. "You've been doing this for five years now—don't tell me if it's complicated. Tell me if we can make it work."

She considered. Paige _did_ seem to be on to something…a spell cast to protect the house would be strongest if cast by everyone who had ties to it. If the entire family's magic could join in a single cooperative effort… "Yeah," she said at last, sketching a pentagram on the pad and labeling the vertices. "We can make it work. Let's get started."

"We want a banishing pentagram, right?" Paige asked her, looking down at the paper. "To repel the demons?"

"Definitely banishing," Phoebe confirmed, making a quick note to that effect. "An invoking pentagram would bring positive influences in, but that's more a blessing type thing; it wouldn't do much about the demon situation."

"Besides the purpose," Cole asked, moving to her side and looking over her shoulder at what she'd written, "what's the difference between an invoking and a banishing pentagram? The direction it's oriented?"

"More like the way it's drawn," she explained, tracing the lines of the sketch with a fingertip as she spoke. "If you're banishing, then you start here, at the Earth point, then go up to Spirit, then Fire, Air, Water, and back to Earth again. With an invoking pentagram, you start with Spirit, then down to Earth, then Water, Air, Fire, and back to Spirit."

She sensed his concentration as he memorized that information for later use. "So the idea is for each of us to stand for one of the elements, then pool our powers in a collective effort," he surmised. "Wouldn't it be easier to forget the Nexus and just use the Power of Three and your basic rhyming couplet?"

"Yes," she said with a nod, "but it wouldn't be as strong as a spell cast by the entire family. It's not just magic that feeds a spell; it's the intent behind it. Putting you and Leo on the pentagram won't add a really significant amount of raw power, but the amount of magic in play isn't always the point. What matters is that you both have the same motivation to protect this house and this family as we do—it's the family union, our bonds to each other and a shared purpose, that'll make the spell strong."

Paige took the pad and pencil from her hand and began to make notes in the margin of the paper. "Next thing we do is figure out who goes where," she said contemplatively. "Leo's the obvious choice for the Spirit point." She paused. "Is it even okay to include him? I mean, the ritual format we're using kind of demands it, but his powers are different from ours."

"You're living proof that witches' magic and Whitelighters' can mix," Cole pointed out. "And so is the baby. If this spell's supposed to be about family unity and emotional ties, then he should be part of it."

She nodded assent, and Paige wrote Leo's name above the pentagram's topmost point. "And Piper's the family foundation; she holds us together. Put her on Earth; she'll be the grounding influence." Sensing Cole's interest in what they were doing, she explained, "Each element has certain attributes—things it represents. I can write it all down for you when we're done with this."

"No need," he said, shaking his head. "I'm getting a fairly good idea just watching you work."

Paige looked up from her notes at him. "I'm surprised you don't know this stuff," she said, toying with the pencil. "I mean, it's basic, and you've been around for…what, a hundred years?"

"A hundred and seventeen," he corrected, half-smiling. "But what's basic for a witch isn't basic for a demon. Dark Priests and Priestesses perform rituals, sure, but standard training is to rely on the use of active powers. For the most part, we—_they_—don't do this kind of thing."

Paige raised an eyebrow at his mid-sentence correction, but Phoebe understood it. While what he was had changed in an instant—several times—self-classifications took longer to form and longer to fade. Of course he still considered himself a demon on some level; it was what he'd been for most of his life. It would take time before he was comfortable with all the new rules and could refer to himself as a witch without conscious thought.

"So we have Spirit and Earth covered," Phoebe surmised, bringing them back to the task at hand. "And I'm definitely Water."

"Yeah," Paige said with a grin as she wrote that down. "You're the intuitive one—all in touch with her emotions—"

"Mine and everybody else's," she interrupted with a rueful laugh. "Okay…Air and Fire?"

"Easy," Paige said dismissively, labeling the final two vertices and gesturing with her free hand to indicate Cole. "He's Fire."

She felt the echo of his amusement at that pronouncement—no doubt he was reflecting on just how accurate it was, given his past—and knowing him as she did, she couldn't say Paige's assessment had been incorrect. "Leaving you on Air," she finished. "So what do you think—do we use individual incantations during the ritual, or just a uniform couplet repeated five times?"

"Maybe a different incantation for each of us," Paige suggested, tapping the pencil's eraser idly against the pad, "and then a shared declaration of intent? Then we're establishing that we're all different—"

"But uniting for a single purpose," Phoebe finished with a nod. "Then a couplet at the end, just to seal the whole thing?"

"That could work," Paige said musingly, making another note. "We'll have to write it all out, then check it with Piper…but I think we're off to a really good start."

_A/N: And I'm finally back! All of you still reading, thanks for your patience—I solemnly swear not to pull another disappearing act (for explanations and general story progress notes between updates, please see my LJ, link in profile). This took a long time to write, but I am more than satisfied with the results, and I hope you are as well (please review and comment on something you liked to let me know). I'm back on once-weekly updates now that Real Life's calmed down, and will be updating next Sunday._


	17. Five Together Stand Entwined

He wasn't going to pretend that he didn't feel a little out of his league as he watched Phoebe and Paige brainstorming together, writing up the warding ritual and chattering in a jargon he only half understood. He hadn't been lying when he'd said that most demons didn't deal in ritual magic—and even if they had, he wouldn't have anything to go on now. The principles of Dark and Light magic did not share common ground.

He'd done some research into the scope of his new abilities, of course, and consulted the Book of Shadows for miscellaneous useful information; but the Book, for the most part, dealt in demonology (which he definitely didn't need to read up on) and specific spell-casting procedures. It alluded to generalities in places, yes, but usually assumed basic knowledge that he simply didn't have.

Phoebe had definitely been right, he reflected, when she'd said that he needed to brush up on the particulars of witch's magic. If he ever needed to put together a spell of his own, or come up with a potion from scratch…well. As things stood now, that simply didn't bear contemplating.

Still, while the finer details escaped him—these attributes to this element to that vertex and so forth—he could appreciate the core of what the two sisters were doing. Light magic was the creation of order and balance, the use of carefully unified energies to a beneficial purpose.

He liked intricate, logical constructions—it was part of what had drawn him to law, even back in his demon days (although then, his own ability to manipulate those constructions to his own ends had been another attraction), and he knew that while mastering the rules of this new magic would be time-consuming and no small challenge, it would be incredibly fulfilling when he finally did.

"Cole?"

He started at Phoebe's voice, realizing he'd been staring into space. "Yes?"

"You're deep in thought, but your mind's kind of wandering," she said with a half-smile. "Are you listening?"

He really would have to get used to having her read him like this. She'd rarely made a mistake in guessing his moods and motivations when they'd been together before—she was perceptive, and she knew him as no one else did—but her new empathic ability made her unwaveringly accurate. "Not really," he admitted, confirming what she probably already knew. "Why, do you need something?"

"We have the vertices of the pentagram all assigned," Paige said, "and a final couplet to seal the whole spell. All we need now are the individual incantations—Phoebe and I've already written ours; you need to do yours."

He'd been listening long enough to know that this wasn't as simple as the only other spell he'd ever written, and wasn't certain that he wouldn't screw it up, but he knew he needed to start the learning process somewhere, and there was nothing so conducive to that end as field practice. "What do I do?"

"The first couplet's the same for all of us," Phoebe explained. "The third one only has a minor variation, and the fourth one's also identical. You just need to write the second one—two little lines that basically state the traits you share with the element you're representing, to establish the connection." She handed him the notepad and a pencil, and he stared at the two blank lines between the completed couplets.

"Okay," he said agreeably, looking up from the paper and meeting her gaze. "Just one problem—I haven't learned which properties go with which element. I can make a general guess, but if I'm not wrong, you need specifics with this."

"The Fire element can represent a lot of things," she began slowly, biting her lower lip as she thought. "Passion—that can mean either a passionate nature or passionate in, er, other ways I think you can guess—strength, courage, transformation, enlightenment—it's hard to control, so it has to be handled carefully; depending on the situation, it can either warm or consume." She paused. "Is that enough? I can get a book with more information if you want it."

He might, later, but he didn't need it now. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I think I understand." He was silent for several minutes, pensive, then finally wrote in one line, then another, and turned the paper so Phoebe could see.

She scanned it, then beamed at him, her eyes glowingly warm with approval. "That's perfect."

"Lemme see?" Paige moved from behind the Book's lectern to look over Phoebe's shoulder, then nodded and half-smiled. "Not bad," she said. "We've come up with worse."

He returned her smile in kind, recognizing a backhanded compliment when he heard one. She still didn't like him, he knew, but respect was a good start. He could work with that—or anything, really, besides outright hostility. "Thanks," he said dryly.

"Piper and Leo still have to do theirs," Phoebe said, changing the subject. "Then, once that's done, we can get a compass, a protractor and a measuring tape and set up the pentagram over the Nexus."

He shot her a questioning look. "We're going to do this today?"

"The sooner the better," Paige said flatly, rolling up the paper that he assumed had her own incantation written on it and stuffing it into her pocket, then wedging her pencil behind her ear. "You're the one who said we needed protection, remember? Besides, you've been around long enough to know how things work here—when we put something off, we usually end up wishing we hadn't."

That was true enough, he thought, acknowledging her words with a nod. Given who they were and the circumstances they were in, the wards should go up as soon as humanly possible. "Point taken." He glanced at the dusty face of a nearby clock: they'd been in the attic nearly two hours, but it was still just late afternoon. "So…back downstairs?"

"Yeah," Phoebe said, turning and leading the way. "I just hope that unicorn's out of here by now," she added as they neared the second floor hallway, "or Piper'll be too worked up to do any—"

She cut herself off when she saw Piper at the bottom of the stairs, but it seemed, judging by the half-annoyed, half-amused look on the eldest Halliwell's face, that she'd been overheard.

"When you're in _your_ third trimester with a prophesied child due for premature delivery in seventy-two hours and your house suddenly becomes a stable for magical livestock," Piper said shortly, putting her hands on her hips, "then you can talk to me about 'worked up.' But 'til then, Pheebs, _zip it_." She paused, then softened. "And for your information," she added, "Leo orbed the damn thing Up There an hour ago, and I have five individual pouches of dust stored in the kitchen with the magical herbs and spices."

Cole filed that information away for future reference. "Do we want to know how much of a horn the unicorn had left when you were done with it?" he asked.

"No," Piper said, the smile she returned unmistakably satisfied. "But I'm sure it'll grow back eventually."

That'll_ teach the Elders to send magical creatures in here without advance notice, _he thought, suppressing a laugh.

"So," Piper said after a moment, turning her attention back to Phoebe and Paige, "while I was down here filing, what did you come up with?"

"A brilliantly constructed ritual," Phoebe said brightly, handing her sister the notepad she was holding. At a glance, he could see the top page covered in small, neat cursive. "You and Leo just need to write your parts of it, and we should have the wards ready to go up in under an hour—"

Piper raised a staying hand, cutting Phoebe off. "Wait—me and _Leo_? He doesn't cast—"

"For this he does," Paige said. Moving to Piper's side, she took the pad, pointing out notes and small sketches as she summarized what she and Phoebe had done. "We really think this'll work," she finished at last. "And if it does, it'll be the strongest protective magic we've cast yet."

Flipping a few sheets back, she held the pad and the pencil out to Piper. "We practically did this for you," she said. "All you have to do is write the middle couplet in there; then get Leo to do his and voilà—one little pentagram over the Nexus and we're in business."

Piper looked skeptical, but she accepted the writing materials, propped the pad against the nearest wall, and in a minute or two, had written in her spell's missing lines. "This'd better work," she said warningly. "Because if it blows up in our faces, I am leaving the two of you to deal with the fallout."

"Oh, come on," Paige said flippantly as Piper tore her incantation off the pad and pocketed it. "What could possibly go—_mmph_!"

Phoebe smiled sweetly, then removed her hand from Paige's mouth. "Don't say it, honey," she said. "In this house, with something like this going on—just _don't_ say it."

"Superstitious much?" Paige asked, making a face.

"When I have to be," she answered tolerantly. "You can never be sure when a superstition's actually real or not, and I'd rather not test that one today."

There might be some truth in that, but Cole agreed with Phoebe for entirely different reasons. 'What could possibly go wrong' was the kind of remark that usually meant the speaker was overconfident—and he'd learned from experience that getting cocky greatly increased the likelihood of fouling up.

"Never mind, okay?" Piper said tolerantly. "Let's just get this done. _Leo?_" she called down the stairs. "Could you come up here for a minute? Phoebe and Paige have a warding ritual they'd like you to look at!"

When he joined them a moment later, he looked a little puzzled. "You know I trust your work; you don't need to okay your spells with me," he said. "Or is that even what you're doing?"

"Not exactly," Phoebe said, showing him the notepad. "See, we kind of need you for this one. We're basing it around a pentagram, and without you, we're one point short."

"I'm not a witch, Phoebe," Leo said with a chuckle, shaking his head. "Casting spells isn't in my job description."

"Neither was marrying and having a baby," Cole pointed out with a smirk, "but that didn't stop you. Besides, your job description is pretty much 'protect your charges,' isn't it? How doesn't this fit in?"

Leo muttered something about the futility of arguing with ex-lawyers and accepted the pad from Phoebe, listening as she and Paige repeated more or less the same explanation they'd given Piper. Finally, he sighed and took the pencil, saying, "Don't blame me when this isn't any good. I think we all learned from the Siren episode that I'm terrible at writing spells."

Phoebe must have sensed his curiosity, because she looked over her shoulder at him and mouthed, _Tell you later._ "Your summoning spell wasn't that bad," she said consolingly to Leo. "The last line just used language that was a little…antiquated."

_Oh, yeah. _Definitely _have to hear this story._

It took some time—longer than he'd taken himself, Cole was pleased to note—but in the end, Leo had written the required couplet. "Now what?" the Whitelighter asked, looking up from the paper.

"Now we set up a pentagram over the Nexus," Paige said with a grin, holding out her hands. "Compass; tape measure; protractor; chalk!" When the requested items obediently materialized, she handed the first three to Leo. "You measure; we'll draw."

In the basement, they assembled around the center of the floor, and Phoebe took the tape measure, feeding out about ten feet of it as she consulted the compass. "North vertex here," she called to Paige, who knelt to mark the spot, "and south—"

"Here," Paige said, moving and making a second mark, then connecting the two. "Okay…now we need five equidistant vertices," she said, "exactly thirty-six degrees apart." Looking up at Leo, she said, "We need the protractor for this."

Apparently, setting up a pentagram like this was much more complicated than outlining one in candles, as he'd often seen them do when summoning. For the next half-hour, Leo worked the protractor as Phoebe held the tape measure and Paige drew.

Standing next to Cole, arms folded protectively over the swell of the baby, Piper spoke in a low voice, explaining what the others were doing. "With a banishing pentagram, you draw a line from the southwest vertex at thirty-six degrees north; then same thing south, then northwest, then east, then back to southwest. You should hit your starting point exactly, but if the angles aren't just right, or the lines an inch too long or short, then you'll miss and have to start the whole thing over."

They did, twice—once when Leo was one degree off with the protractor, and again because Paige made a line a few centimeters too long, but the third attempt was perfect—which was fortunate, because by that time, they were all nearing the end of their patience.

"Ow, my back," Paige groaned as she straightened up, dusting off her hands.

"I know," Phoebe said, following suit with a grimace. "Believe me. Not that mine wouldn't hurt anyway, after so long crouched down like that, but yours is _not_ helping."

"Want me to get an aspirin?" Paige asked, giving her sister a commiserating look.

Phoebe shook her head. "Don't bother right now. Maybe when we're done here." Turning to Leo, she directed, "You stand at the north point, there; Paige, you're the northwest point; Piper, you're the southwest; Cole, we need you at south."

They all moved as per her instructions, and she took her own place at east. "Okay," Piper said as they all took out their incantations. "Here goes." She drew a deep breath, released it slowly, then chanted:

"_At this time and in this hour,  
I call upon the Ancient Power.  
Nurturer, stability,  
Protectress of the family:  
I am Earth; I stand tonight  
And pledge my power to this rite  
To shield these people and this place  
From dangers past and yet to face."_

He felt energy building around them, pressing in with a low vibration like the reverberation of a distant chord as the first tendrils of magic wound them together. There was an instant's pause, then a sudden surge of power, and a beam of brilliant emerald light leapt from Piper's chest, just over her heart, to connect to Leo at the same point.

The Whitelighter tensed at first—surprise, he supposed—but relaxed quickly, an expression Cole could only describe as awe spreading over his face. Finally, he looked down at the paper in his hand and read aloud:

"_At this time and in this hour,  
I call upon the Ancient Power.  
Guardian and selfless guide,  
Wherein compassion doth abide:  
I'm Spirit; I stand tonight  
And pledge my power to this rite  
To shield these people and this place  
From dangers past and yet to face."_

The power increase was more obvious this time, the magic binding them more tightly together, and a silver-white beam emanated from Leo, emerging from where Piper's emerald connected and reaching toward him.

The energy surge he felt when that beam connected definitely accounted for the surprise he'd seen on Leo's face, assuming the Whitelighter had felt the same thing on establishing a link with Piper, but he couldn't have expected what came next, when the other man's magic touched his own.

He'd been healed before, when he was human (and twice when he wasn't, though he didn't remember either occasion clearly), and it was something like that, a flow of light, subtly warm power; but there was more—now he could sense, if dimly, some of the directions of that flow. It was a complicated cycle he couldn't quite grasp, but which he knew had something to do with whatever magic made up the fabric of Up There, and indeed, the Whitelighters themselves.

And on the edge of his perception was Piper's magic, too—he couldn't make out the intricacies of it, not yet, but he knew he would, later, when the pentagram was completed. Bringing the paper in his hand up to eye-level, he chanted:

"_At this time and in this hour,  
I call upon the Ancient Power.  
Passion leashed by will's command,  
Destroying or defending hand:  
I'm Fire; I stand tonight  
And pledge my power to this rite  
To shield these people and this place  
From dangers past and yet to face."_

He expected the power surge and the increased vibration this time, and though the ruby beam that shot from his chest—hot and radiant and with a flow that leapt like flames—was new, it wasn't entirely surprising: he knew himself well.

As that beam reached toward Paige, he knew at once that this wasn't the same as the momentary loss of his powers that he'd experienced when he'd used the switching spell with Phoebe, but simple extension. There was no straining, nor any pain, and the connection, when it completed itself, wasn't disagreeable, but rather the achievement of a balance.

Paige's magic shared some qualities with Leo's, obviously because of her Whitelighter heritage, but the overall feel of it was quite different. There was no cyclic flow here, but free, disorderly motion, not so unlike a gusting breeze; and while it didn't seem to hold his so tightly as Leo's or Piper's, it still fed and sustained the bond between them.

After a moment or two, Paige read her own spell:

"_At this time and in this hour,  
I call upon the Ancient Power.  
Thought with spontaneity,  
Inspired creativity:  
I am Air; I stand tonight  
And pledge my power to this rite  
To shield these people and this place  
From dangers past and yet to face."_

Still another great surge, and now bright light, the warm, golden-yellow color of topaz, shone from Paige to Phoebe. He was disappointed when he couldn't sense her clearly—but that did make sense, as the connection between them wasn't direct, and in another minute, it wouldn't matter anyway: the completion of the pentagram would forge five connections of equal strength.

Phoebe was still for a long moment—longer than any of them had been—and he wondered with a flash of concern whether her empathic ability was causing complications; but then she released a long breath and caught his eyes, letting her own tell him that she was all right before taking up her incantation.

"_At this time and in this hour,  
I call upon the Ancient Power.  
Clarity of Second Sight,  
Strength of emotion at its height:  
I'm Water; I stand tonight  
And pledge my power to this rite  
To shield these people and this place  
From dangers past and yet to face."_

At this, the air seemed charged with electricity, and he felt the spell reach completion as a sapphire beam extended from Phoebe to Piper, the cross-connections binding them all as five points of a single jewel-bright star, and then—

Then the currents of power surrounding them swept him up and he was no longer one, but many; the vibration in the air around them turned inward and gave way to the steady beat of five synchronized hearts, felt not only in his chest but all through him, and as the bonds that joined him to the others—to his _family_—flared to full life, he could sense the two that he hadn't before.

Piper's energies stood firm and strong and still, grasping them all and pulling them in like a sheltering embrace, and he thought dimly that Phoebe had been right in describing her as their foundation, because that was what she was—an anchor amidst the motion.

And Phoebe herself…

This was what he'd been waiting to feel. Her magic was cooling, soothing and serene—a pleasant contrast to his own heat, opposite but so right—and it moved as water currents might, at varying speeds and in varying directions. The faster flows spoke to him of her spirit, her own fire, and the slower ones of her quiet, contemplative moods.

When her magic twined with his more deeply than any of the others, well, that was expected, given the relationship they shared—indeed, it was the most natural thing in the world. He was distantly aware of his own magic intermeshing in the same way with hers, a welcome and well-loved presence within her as hers was within him.

He'd never know how they all knew the correct moment to finish with the final couplet—some sixth sense, perhaps, or a thought by one of them that was transmitted to them all—but it didn't matter; their voices rose in perfect unison and chanted: _"Five together stand entwined; joined as one, this spell we bind." _There was a final explosion of power, the energy flows surging with such intensity that it was nearly painful, heat that stopped just short of burning; and then a flash of blindingly bright light as that energy was released.

When they were aware of themselves again and the last glowing afterimages vanished from their vision, they watched as the connections waned slowly, their light dimming like dying embers. Leo left him first, then Paige and Piper; but he wasn't quite alone, because he could still feel the touch of Phoebe's magic on his, the echo of the connection, even when the beam that joined them disappeared.

Piper spoke first, breathlessly, her face pale. "That…that was…"

"Powerful?" Leo suggested, moving to his wife's side. He sounded short of breath himself, his expression caught halfway between satisfaction and shellshock.

"Powerful doesn't begin to describe it," Phoebe said with a wry grin, coming to stand beside Cole. "The Power of Three is powerful, and that made the Power of Three look like a low-budget magic act."

"Not exactly," Piper said, shaking her head. "We had the Power of Three—all the bonds that made it up were there, and we know it's our relationship as sisters that makes it as strong as it is—then add in my bond to Leo and his to me, plus Cole's connection to you and vice-versa…" She paused, quiet for a moment. "You said it yourself—that was the power of family union. We're not going to go out and use it to vanquish, but for something like this…"

Paige laughed as she moved to stand next to Piper, taking her sister's arm to steady them both. "I think it's safe to say that not many demons are going to be able to get through that ward," she said. "Anything that does…"

"Is one hell of an emergency," he said dryly, wrapping his arm around Phoebe's shoulders. "As in, very upper-level demons. We're through dealing with all the dime-a-dozen minions."

"Almost no more demons in the house…God, that sounds good," Piper said, smiling wistfully. "We can finally have something resembling a normal life, raise our kids safely…"

He smiled himself as he thought fleetingly of the premonition he and Phoebe had shared, and of the image of their daughter he'd been shown days before. "Yeah," he agreed. "Normal…or as close as we get…sounds good."

He wouldn't want to be completely normal, as he knew Piper did—he'd learned from his brief period as a mortal human that it really wasn't the kind of life he was cut out for. He thrived on action, enjoyed the adrenaline rush of battle and the sense of accomplishment that came with each victory—but he was all for the protection the wards would provide. After all, it made sense to conserve their energy to take out the Underworld's upper echelons, rather than being plagued day in and day out by every low-level demon in San Francisco.

Paige gathered up the tools they'd used to draw the pentagram, leaving the symbol itself still etched on the floor, and they all returned upstairs. He wasn't surprised, given how much the ritual had taken out of them, to see the rest of the family heading for their respective bedrooms even as Phoebe motioned him toward hers—no, he corrected himself, _theirs_. It was theirs again, and he belonged there.

As he pulled the covers up and curled closer to her, listening to the lulling sound of her breathing as it deepened and evened out, he made a mental note to himself to ask her later why the connection between them hadn't broken, and what that meant.

His last thought as he fell asleep, still relishing the satisfaction of a job well done, was that it was probably nothing to be overly concerned about.

_A/N: And I think we can all guess that it's _not_ nothing, but more on that within the next few chapters… In any case, I didn't think any of you would mind an early update, and I really couldn't wait to share this chapter—I'm extremely proud of how it turned out. Besides, posting early gives you all plenty of time to review before my birthday on Saturday—feedback is the very best and most appreciated present I could receive, so please comment on something you particularly liked. (Long reviews—i.e., one paragraph or more—are especially euphoria-inducing, but short ones are wonderful too!)_


	18. Beautiful is the Child

"I just got off the phone with Ava," Phoebe said as she breezed into her older sister's bedroom, "and she says she'll be waiting for our call. Any strong contractions yet?"

Two days before, with the wards safely up and delivery just hours off, Piper had grudgingly conceded the hospital issue, but insisted on having someone with medical credentials present for her son's birth. After all, he was going to be six weeks early, and if there were complications, she'd really feel much better with an actual doctor in the room, not just her two sisters/midwives.

Considering that Ava Nicolae had been monitoring Piper's pregnancy since they'd helped her vanquish the gypsy hunter, Orin, two weeks previous, she was the logical choice. Although she was a surgeon, not an obstetrician, she had had training in internal medicine and would protect their secret, and that was what counted.

"No. And could you try not to be so cheerful?" Piper said, an edge of irritation in her tone. "It's getting on my nerves!"

"But I'm going to be an aunt!" she said, unable to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice. "How could I not be happy about it?" She reached back to fluff Piper's pillow, then smiled fondly at the swell of her belly. "You just relax and concentrate on him," she said. "We're prepared for everything."

"Not prepared enough," Piper said darkly. She looked down at her hands, then at the pouch of unicorn dust on the nightstand. "Yeah, we have that," she said, indicating it with a sharp gesture, "but I'd feel much better if my powers worked. I know Cole said no demons will attack during the outage, but—"

"Don't even start," Phoebe cut in, raising a staying hand. She didn't need her empathic gift to know her sister was starting to worry. "Look, Cole knows demons better than we ever will. If he says they're not attacking, they're not attacking—end of story. Besides," she added in a lighter tone, "I'm glad not to have my powers. Your headache was bad enough—I _don't_ want to experience your labor."

Piper winced. "Ouch," she said, grimacing. "Empathy does come with its little catches, doesn't it?"

"Tell me about it," she said dryly, half-smiling. "My own feelings were enough to deal with…feeling for four other people can be a little much." Seeing her sister's concerned expression, she added quickly, "Still, it's great to have a new power—I was starting to think they'd never advance."

"Everyone's timetable is different," Piper said, shrugging. "It's not like there's some rule that says we get a new power every year at whatever time, is there? Sometimes they come because there's an immediate need, like your levitation did—or sometimes when we're under a lot of emotional stress, like my power to blow things up—"

"'Stress?'" Phoebe interjected with a laugh. "Are you kidding? You were on one of your 'need to have a normal life' kicks and _royally_ pissed off. Just plain stress doesn't do it—if it did, we'd be packing enough powers to level the city by now."

Piper glared at the teasing, then let out a laugh of her own. "Point taken," she said with a wry grin. "We've had more than enough stress for it, what with being on the hit list of every demon in San Francisco." There was a short pause, then she said, "Still, with the wards up, we should see a definite decrease in the attacks. I have to hand it to you, Pheebs—that ritual was a work of art."

"Giving credit where it's due," Phoebe said, "you should also thank Paige. We collaborated on the incantations and assigning the vertices, but it was her idea to design the spell around a pentagram over the Nexus."

Piper smiled softly, and although Phoebe could not sense it—not now—she saw the pride in her sister's eyes. "Quite the out-of-the-box thinker, that little sister of ours," she said. "She's taken to the craft so well—you'd never know she freaked when she found out she was a witch."

"No," she agreed. Paige had learned and grown since she'd joined them, and looking at her now, self-assured and at ease with her powers, Phoebe couldn't see a trace of the horrified young woman who had fled their attic just two years before. "She's changed so much." She paused, then sighed. "We all have."

"It's true," Piper agreed with a bittersweet smile. "This whole destiny thing…being Charmed…we had no choice. I mean, I still wish for normalcy, but I knew the life I'd had was over when I learned I could freeze." She was quiet for a long moment. "But you know, for all I resent it sometimes…magic gave me Leo, gave me our son…and that makes all the demons we've had to vanquish the past five years worth it."

It was easy for Phoebe to relate. Since magic had brought Cole into her life—they never would have met, had she been just your average free-spirited twenty-something—she'd learned about love, the pleasure and pain of it alike, and she wouldn't give that experience up for the world. "We'd have to get some compensation for all the trouble we go through," she said lightly. "And on balance, being brought closer together as sisters and finding our respective perfect matches adds up pretty well."

Piper pushed herself up into a sitting position, scooting back to lean against the headboard. "Yeah," she said, reaching down to caress the swell of the baby. "It does, doesn't it?"

She was about to reply, but was cut off when their younger sister's voice carried upstairs. "Phoebe! Where did we leave the broom? It's not in the closet!"

"Check behind the kitchen door!" Phoebe called back, then turned to Piper. "Are you sure we should even bother with Imbolc this year? I mean, I know the sabbats are an important part of our heritage, but our minds are on celebrating you and your baby, not some holiday. Besides, childbirth is kind of the ultimate symbol of growth and renewal, isn't it?"

Piper half-smiled and nodded. "Look, I'm not saying we go all out with this—I'm hardly going to get out of bed and whip up a big dinner—but we've missed observing a lot of sabbats because of demonic emergencies. Lighting a couple of candles to remember the day isn't that hard."

"Nice try, but we lit the candles last night, remember?" She tilted her head in the direction of the candle burning on the windowsill, reminding her sister of the ones in all the manor's other windows. "We're now on the spring cleaning phase—a little sweeping, a little dusting…we'd bless the house, too," she added dryly, "if magic weren't down and we hadn't already put the wards up to protect it." She leaned forward a little, resting her chin on an upraised hand. "So spill. We both know you have an ulterior motive here."

"Yes," Piper admitted, heaving an exasperated sigh. "I don't want everyone to hover over me all day! When I'm in actual, active labor, okay, but this is not the first time you've been up here to check on me—same with Leo and Paige. Company is nice, but being the whole household's sole focus? Not so much."

"Can you blame us?" Phoebe asked with a grin, sitting down on the end of the bed. "This is a big event—we've been waiting months and months for him to be born."

"_You've_ been waiting?" Piper echoed, narrowing her eyes a little. "I'm the one who's been lugging him around!" She paused, then chuckled, patting her rounded midsection gently. "You'd think, with all the powers he has, Mr. Twice-Blessed here could be considerate enough to just orb himself out of the womb."

"No such luck," Phoebe said sympathetically, shaking her head as she rose. "You're going to have to evict him the old-fashioned way." She paused halfway to the door, looking over her shoulder to ask, "Should I send Leo up, or do you want to wait for him to come on his own?"

Piper was quiet a moment, considering, then said, "You might as well send him up…and tell him to bring a hot water bottle!" she added, grimacing. "My back is killing me."

"Will do," Phoebe agreed. She knew that Piper was probably mistaking the mild contractions of passive labor for back pain—at least, if the information on the homebirth video had been accurate—but she'd find the heat soothing just the same.

Downstairs, she relayed her sister's instructions to Leo, then moved into the living room. Paige was sweeping the floor, Cole standing off to one side and holding one of the cloths they used for dusting. Deftly, she removed it from his hand and started in on one of the side tables. "Never done housework before?" she asked teasingly.

"Some," he said. "It's not exactly what I grew up with—I never bothered cleaning the cavern underground; there wasn't any point—but I know how to do it." Then, with a knowing look and a grin, "It's just that this looks more like a distraction than something you're doing for the sabbat, growth and renewal or not."

She reached over and gave him a playful swat with the dust cloth, then coughed as that released just a bit too much dust. "You're right," she admitted once the air cleared, "and I know it seems a little ridiculous to spring clean as part of a holiday. Normally we'd also do a blessing ritual on the house—though with the wards up, we hardly need to anymore—and Piper would cook a big meal—"

"Which she's understandably not up to today," he finished for her. "So we're doing housework to occupy ourselves until she's ready to deliver." There was a short pause, then he shrugged. "What the hell; it's got to be better than just waiting. You dust, and I'll do what Paige should've done in the first place and go get the vacuum."

As the hours crawled by, mid-afternoon advancing into early evening and the candles in the windows burning low, they worked their way through the entire first floor and most of the second ('most' because Piper and Leo's bedroom was, of course, left alone), leaving the rooms neat and the furniture and windows gleaming.

"It's actually a good thing we did this," Paige said when they finished and returned downstairs, sitting down around the kitchen table. "Once the baby gets here, the housework's going to be the last thing on our minds." She shook her head slightly and laughed. "One thing I learned from supervising all those childcare classes at the clinic—nothing shakes up a routine like having a baby in the house. The first couple months especially are complete chaos."

"Until he starts sleeping through the night, anyway," Phoebe agreed wryly, having read a book or two on child development in the months after the Angel of Destiny had revealed Piper's pregnancy. "But still, it'll be worth it…and he's so cute!"

For a moment, Paige looked a bit surprised at her use of the present tense; then she remembered that Phoebe had already seen the baby in her premonition. "What's he look like?" she asked.

"Blond hair," Phoebe supplied, searching the brief memory, "which I guess should get darker when he's older, blue eyes and a _really_ sweet little face. I guess he would've been…what, between one and three months in that premonition?" She looked to Cole for confirmation, but he shook his head.

"Your guess would be better than mine," he said with a half-smile. "I've seen babies in passing a few times, sure, but I haven't spent enough time around them to guess age with any kind of accuracy."

"Between one and three months," she concluded, nodding. Then, to Cole, "It's okay. Lots of men know next to nothing about babies until there's one born into the family. You'll learn fast."

She'd noticed that Cole didn't seem as excited by the idea of a new baby as the rest of them were, but that was easy enough to understand: when he'd just learned the concept of 'family' three years ago, it wasn't surprising that he had no idea what 'nephew' meant. Still, she was confident that it wouldn't take him long to pick up once the baby was actually in their lives.

"I'm just going to stick the homebirth video in the VCR and get the birthing ball," Paige said after a moment, rising and pushing in her chair. "Even if we're not going to be completely in charge of supervising the labor, it couldn't hurt to review what we're supposed to do. Coming?"

"We've been over the tape already—twice by ourselves and once with Ava," she reminded her sister. "That's enough for me. If you want to watch it, though, keep the volume down. We don't want Piper to hear the poor woman screaming."

"Point taken," Paige said with a grimace, pausing in the kitchen doorway and looking back over her shoulder at Phoebe. "I think I'll just turn the closed captioning on and mute the sound. Makes the tape easier to take." A short pause. "We left the birthing ball in the conservatory, right?"

At Phoebe's nod, she left the kitchen and headed there.

"Birthing ball?" Cole echoed incredulously, giving Phoebe a questioning look. "I've seen that thing—you can't mean that Piper's supposed to sit on it and—"

"Give birth? Yeah," she confirmed with a wry grin. "I know the ball doesn't look stable, but it's actually easier for a woman to labor sitting or squatting or whatever. That way, gravity can help speed up the process."

Cole laughed as he glanced up at the clock. "It's not exactly going quickly as it is," he said. "By all reports, no sign of real labor yet—it's six-thirty now, and we've been waiting since magic went down at about nine this morning."

It hadn't been difficult for her to pinpoint the moment the world's magic had failed: she'd abruptly stopped sensing her family, alone with her own emotions for the first time since her empathic power had emerged, and she'd been startled to find that it felt strange not to have their feelings insinuated into the edges of her own perception, to be simply one unto herself.

And she was, because her link to Cole—newer even than the empathy, but already so familiar that it felt as though it had always been there—had also become inaccessible, and it had been discomfiting to lose the radiating warmth of his power twined with hers. Without her network of subtle connections, empathic and otherwise (for lack of classification), she felt oddly isolated.

"It should be back up by midnight," she said. "According to the prophecy, he's supposed to be born today, so when today ends…" She shrugged. "Anyway, it shouldn't be much longer."

His reply was cut off when the telephone rang—once, twice, and then silence. She guessed that Leo must have picked up the extension in the bedroom. A moment or two of silence, then she heard her brother-in-law's voice call down, "Cole! Can you pick up downstairs? It's one of my French charges!"

"Sure! One second!" He rose and picked up the receiver, listened for a moment to the voice on the other end, then answered in fluent French. She could guess the gist of it—after all, this wasn't the first call he'd fielded today.

Leo's other charges had been calling since magic had gone down that morning, and without his powers, he wasn't capable of conversing with the ones that didn't speak English. Fortunately, Cole had calmly picked up the phone midway through Leo's fumbling attempts at Greek and made the explanations the Whitelighter couldn't.

Apparently, he'd picked up several foreign languages over the last century.

"_Merci. Bonne nuit,"_ Cole said, then hung up the phone. "That's the fourth time today," he said dryly, retuning to the table. "One in Greece, one in Portugal, and that was the second in France." Then, half to himself, "I really could have done better with the Portuguese…then again, I haven't been there in years…"

"You seemed fine on the phone," she assured him.

"I could get the point across, but I was never very fluent in that language," he said with a shrug. "Still, none of those conversations were all that complicated; they all went by basically the same script. 'I'm Leo's sister-in-law's fiancé; I'll be translating for him since he doesn't speak insert-language-here without his powers'; quick explanation of the outage, then end with the standard niceties."

"More than I could do," she said, shaking her head. "I took several years of French in high school, but I've forgotten pretty much all of it. You can sit there and chat in French and Greek like it's nothing."

"French, Greek and Latin were part of my education growing up," he said simply, his tone slightly reminiscent. "That and reading, composition, astronomy, mathematics—you know, standard things at the time. Besides all the other training I went through, my"—he hesitated—"teachers made certain I spent enough time in human schools and society to learn to blend."

Phoebe listened with interest. He rarely spoke of his life before he'd met her—and for the most part, that was probably for the better. He had no desire to dwell on his past deeds, and she didn't really want to know the details (the entry on Belthazor in the Book, complete with its warning to avoid him at all costs, spoke for itself). This was different, though, and it was good to know that not all of his past had been spent killing. "So you grew up in both worlds," she surmised.

"More or less," he said with a nod. "I was an experiment—they wanted to see if a hybrid could perform certain tasks more effectively than a full demon. Humans have the capacity for loyalty, more controlled tempers and more rational thought. Couple those things with demonic powers and impulses, and the result…" He was silent for a moment, regret plain in his eyes, then he finished flatly, "Well, they were very satisfied with me for the first century or so."

She leaned into his side, offering mute reassurance. "But they didn't count on your having a soul," she said quietly, "or the ability to love—which is why their little experiment ultimately failed."

"No," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "_You_ were why. Before I met you, there'd been no reason to believe that any alternative existed—why abandon everything I'd ever known in favor of a death warrant? But then there you were, and I began to feel things I'd thought I'd lost the capacity to feel…and I wanted to be the man you believed I was."

Touched, she opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by her younger sister's voice at the kitchen door. "I hate to interrupt the lovey-dovey moment you're sharing," Paige said, a note of rising excitement in her tone, "but I was just upstairs, and Piper's water's broken. Ava's been called and she's on her way."

Phoebe extricated herself from Cole's half-embrace and all but leapt to her feet, returning Paige's wide grin. "At last," she said, her own voice thick with anticipation. "Showtime."

Nearly an hour later, she was beginning to think that she really could have put this experience off for a while longer. The birthing ball had been abandoned long ago, and Piper was kneeling on a large throw pillow in front of the bed, leaning forward onto the stool that normally stood in front of her dressing table. Her face was flushed with exertion and twisted into a grimace of pain, a sheen of perspiration glistening on her skin. "Leo," she said through gritted teeth, "I swear to God, if you _ever_ even _think_ about touching me again, I'm going to blow your goddamn orbs to kingdom come!"

Ava, kneeling in front of Piper, raised her head to give the Whitelighter a reassuring smile. "It's just the transition phase," she said. "Most frequent and longest contractions. Most women threaten to castrate their husbands at least once; none of them mean it."

"Believe me," Piper snarled, _"I mean it!"_

"Shh, honey," Phoebe said soothingly, reaching to massage her sister's neck and shoulders. "You're doing great. Just try to relax and breathe. Relax…and breathe." She made the rhythm of her own breathing match the one she'd seen on the tape, hoping to encourage Piper to do the same, but the older witch was having none of it.

"I'm _breathing_ just fine!" she snapped, reaching up and giving Leo's hand what looked like a viciously tight squeeze as she was caught in the grip of another contraction. His expression changed instantly from concern to extreme discomfort.

"You're nearly ten centimeters dilated," Ava reported calmly, smiling encouragingly at Piper. "One or two more of those contractions, and then you can start to push."

"Joy and wonder—of natural childbirth—my ass," Piper panted through another contraction, glaring daggers at Leo. "Tell me again—how this was supposed to be—such a great experience?"

To his credit, he knew better than to do that. Powers or no powers, Piper's temper was a dangerous thing to mess with. "You're doing great," he said, echoing Phoebe's earlier words, "and I have never loved you more than I do right now."

"Somehow," Paige said wryly, smoothing Piper's damp hair away from her face, "I doubt the feeling is mutual." A short pause, then, in a gentler voice, "Almost there, Piper. Just hang on."

"Ten centimeters," Ava said briskly, straightening up. "Okay, Piper; you're all set. Next contraction, I want you to bear down and push."

She pushed, and screamed, and pushed again, and the minutes passed like small eternities, stretching into an hour. Phoebe's ears rang with her sister's cries, and she was hardly conscious of the words she spoke to urge her on. Finally, Ava's voice broke into a pause between contractions.

"The baby's crowning," she said. "Two or three more big pushes, and he'll be out."

Sobbing with mingled exhaustion and pain, Piper bore down, clutching Leo's hand so hard that her knuckles went white.

"That's a girl," Paige said, reaching for a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from her sister's face. "It's almost over."

"Almost over," Phoebe repeated, patting Piper's shoulder. "Wait until you see him; he's so beautiful—"

"You've made it to your last push," Ava said cheerfully, looking up to meet Piper's gaze. "Give it everything you've got!"

"I don't—have anything—left," Piper protested breathlessly, tears welling in her eyes. "I can't…"

"You can." Leo's voice held the calm of absolute certainty. "I know you can. Piper, you're the strongest woman I know—you've gotten through things I never could, and you've been incredible tonight…one more push, honey. Just one more."

Piper, who had been cursing Leo's name earlier, seemed to draw strength from his encouragement now. She drew a deep, shuddering breath and pushed, and a moment later, the wail of an infant filled the room, and Ava clamped off and cut the umbilical cord before wrapping Wyatt Matthew Halliwell in a clean towel. Once Phoebe and Paige had helped Piper onto the bed, she set him in her outstretched arms.

He was tiny and red and wrinkled, remnants of blood and vernix still clinging to his damp skin and his hair, dark with moisture, plastered to his head; his eyes were open, blue and unfocused, slightly crossed.

"Oh…" Piper's voice was a reverent whisper, and her expression was beatific. "You _are_ beautiful." She looked up at Leo, her exhausted face glowing with some inner light. "He's a miracle."

Leo's reply was cut off when several things happened at once—the floor vibrated beneath their feet, the candle on the windowsill flickered out, and a surge of power arced through them all, signifying magic's return. Phoebe felt Cole's presence return, too, then ran through a mental checklist of her empathic links, making certain they were all intact. That done, she took a moment to bask in her sister's joy and wonder, then left the bedroom and started for the stairs.

Cole had declined to be present for the birth (and she could guess now why he'd made that decision), but there was no reason he shouldn't admire Wyatt with the rest of them. After all, the baby was as much his nephew as hers or Paige's—

"I felt magic come back on," he said, emerging from the kitchen and moving to join her in the upstairs hallway. "How're Piper and the baby?"

"She's never been so happy," Phoebe said honestly as they headed for the bedroom, "and Wyatt…you'll love him; he's just the most precious little thing…"

Ava met them halfway there, holding a small plastic garbage bag containing what Phoebe assumed was the placenta and looking tired but nonetheless satisfied. "They're doing fine," she reported. "The baby's a little small, but you expect that with preemies—other than that, he seems okay, and I don't foresee any complications."

Phoebe thanked Ava for her help, then continued to the bedroom. Piper hadn't moved since she'd left, though Leo had joined her on the bed; Paige was standing at Piper's side, gazing raptly at the small bundle in her arms. "You were right, Pheebs," she said, looking up as they drew nearer. "Such a sweet boy," she crooned, smiling at Wyatt. "Yes, you are."

She and Cole moved to stand beside Paige, neither of them speaking. This moment—the family of five newly made six—needed no words. _Beautiful,_ she thought. _Beautiful._

_A/N: Sorry to be late with this chapter, but Real Life has a way of interfering with my posting schedule… In any case, I really hope you enjoyed, and would very much appreciate a comment from you—this chapter's been a long time in the making, and I'd love to know if it came across effectively._


	19. Struck Senseless

"_Waaah!"_

Cole opened his eyes, staring blearily at the alarm clock's numerals, glowing softly in the darkened bedroom. _Three o'-freaking-clock in the morning_. _Again!_ Groaning, he pulled his pillow over his head, pressing it tightly against his ears in hopes of blocking out Wyatt's strident wails.

He'd lived a long time, seen and experienced more than most could dream of, a great deal of it now in the history books. He'd witnessed the aftermath of San Francisco's devastation by earthquake and fire at twenty-one, seen the Panama-Pacific Exposition at thirty and the opening of the Golden Gate Bridge at fifty-two. He'd traveled the world and the realms (generally to spread chaos and destruction, true, but every so often simply because he could); learned law and languages, explored the various cultures and their magics.

But in a hundred and seventeen years, he'd never acquired any practical knowledge about babies. He'd seen them a few times in passing, of course—small, squirming bundles carried in a parent's arms or pushed in a carriage—but they'd simply never been any of his concern before (excepting, of course, the few precious hours he'd spent reveling in the joy of Phoebe's earlier pregnancy, undiminished in spite of the Source's presence).

Then—three weeks ago now—Wyatt had been born. Quite suddenly, there was a baby in his home, in his family and his life…and seriously disrupting his sleep.

With a sigh, he pulled the covers up over the pillow in what was only a marginally effective attempt to muffle the noise. Dimly, he could hear what he recognized as Piper's footsteps entering the nursery, and then the crying quieted, dissolving into hiccupping sobs before finally falling silent.

"At last," he muttered.

"Cole?" Phoebe said sleepily, stirring beside him. "You awake, too?"

He moved the pillow back to its proper place and turned the covers down before rolling over to face her. "The curse of being a light sleeper," he said dryly. "Not that he wouldn't wake me anyway if I weren't…" A short pause. "How much longer until he'll sleep through the night?"

"I said when you asked the first time," Phoebe answered around a yawn, "that there's no real way to tell. It varies with the baby—could be a couple of weeks, or a couple of months. 'Sometimes a baby—'"

"'Just has to cry,'" he finished for her, quoting the entry he'd read in the Book earlier that week, when sheer desperation had led him to check for a magical way to ensure a little peace and quiet. "I know. It's just hard to get used to the rude awakenings so many times a night."

She made a sympathetic noise and snuggled a little closer to him. "It kind of gets to you, huh?"

There was no point pretending it didn't—she would have felt his irritation at the string of half-sleepless nights. "I'm trying not to let it," he said after a moment. "It's not like he's keeping us all up on purpose." Stifling a yawn of his own, he asked, "How're you managing at work?" By this point, Piper and Leo were staggering around like the walking dead, and when the rest of them were only slightly better off, he couldn't imagine how Phoebe was awake enough to manage a coherent advice column, much less one acceptable to the Mirror.

"Coffee," she said wryly, half-smiling. "Lots and _lots_ of coffee." Then, ruefully, "Still, caffeine can only do so much. Elise's been pushing everyone harder than usual lately, because Jason Dean, this rich entrepreneur, bought the paper recently. He has a reputation for doing major staff turnover."

"Are you worried about your job?"

She shook her head. "If I can get along with Elise, a new boss isn't going to be a problem," she said with a grin. "Anyway, I'm good enough for circulation that I'm not likely to be replaced, and he likes my column. I really don't have much to worry about—less than usual, even." A contented sigh. "That ward's worked miracles for us. We've never gone this long without a demonic attack."

"We can't afford to be complacent," he warned, his voice grim. "That could be a sign of a large-scale plot in the works. One problem with being rid of the constant flow of minions…it's much harder to keep tabs on what's going on down there. You know it's only a matter of time before an upper-level demon comes to check things out personally."

The smile died on her face. "You sure know how to give a girl good news, don't you, Cole?" she deadpanned. Then, cupping a hand to her ear, she asked teasingly, "Is that the 'factions' lecture I hear looming?"

"No," he said with a laugh, remembering the time he'd spent trying to explain to them all the threat posed by an Underworld in the throes of anarchy. "I think we've been over it enough. I'm just saying—the lull won't last forever, and we have to be prepared for its eventual end."

"I know," she conceded with a quiet sigh. "Having the wards doesn't mean we get to live in a demon-free bubble, no matter how much we'd like to believe otherwise. We're still witches, and there're still enemies to fight and Innocents out there that need saving. But for now"—she brightened again—"let's try to get a little sleep. I arranged to have the morning off before my meeting with Elise and Mr. Dean this afternoon, and Piper and Leo have a family outing planned. Remember? Wyatt's first street fair?"

He vaguely recalled Piper's mentioning it a few days before, and getting out of the house for a while sounded good, even though Wyatt was too young to do much more at a street fair than look at the scenery and babble. "More or less. What time is that?"

"A little after breakfast, I think," she said, trying and failing to stifle a yawn as she pulled the covers up a bit higher. "And if we get to sleep really fast, we might even be sort of awake by then."

Although his eyes still burned with fatigue when the alarm clock blared and woke them four hours later, a cup of strong coffee and breakfast woke him up enough to let him function. The girls looked more awake than he did and Leo did, but he wasn't fooled—he'd seen Phoebe hiding the dark circles under her eyes with makeup shortly after dragging herself out of bed, and he'd bet a sizable sum of money that Piper and Paige had done the same thing.

Tired or not, though, the fact was that they were going out…and going out with a baby in tow, it seemed, took a significant amount of preparation time.

"Leo!" Piper called from the living room, picking up the video camera's case and slinging it over her shoulder. "Did you see his pacifier anywhere? I thought I put it down next to the extra bottle…"

"I put it in the diaper bag already," Leo said, tightening the last strap on the carrier fastened to his torso before moving to lift Wyatt from the bassinet they'd put beside the sofa. "Hold this open for me?"

Piper obliged, and Leo lowered the baby into the carrier. He whined and squirmed a little, but thankfully chose not to begin a full-scale crying fit. "There you go, little guy," Leo said, rubbing his son's back gently. "Daddy's got you."

"And Aunt Phoebe's got a noon meeting with her bosses," Phoebe said lightly as she shrugged into her coat, then came to stand beside him. "Are we just about ready to hit the road? That diaper bag looks like it weighs twice what he does."

Paige, sitting in a chair near the door, pulled the bag into her lap and unzipped it, beginning to rifle through the contents. "Let's see…we've got diapers, wipes, baby powder, changing pad, tissues, two bottles, pacifier, rattle, a couple of other miscellaneous toys, blanket, sweater, a change of clothes, extra pair of booties, spare hat, and one of those old towels you put over your shoulder when you burp him." Grinning, she closed the bag up again and handed it to Piper, who shifted it to her free arm and gripped the shoulder strap. "Yep. I'd say we're set."

_Finally._ Who knew one tiny baby needed so many accessories?

"We'll take the Jeep," Piper said, tucking the digital camera into her purse before rummaging through it and finally producing the keys. "It's got the most room, and I don't want to have to move Wyatt's car seat."

At this rate, the fair was going to be over long before they got there. Impatient, he moved to stand by the door.

"Nothing like traveling with a baby," Phoebe said with a wry grin, withdrawing her cell phone from her pocket and checking the time display before turning it off. "Eight-thirty," she said. "I'll have to put it back on before I leave for the meeting, but until then…no interruptions."

"Okay, people, everybody out!" Piper led the way to the car, Leo at her side and Paige and Phoebe behind, and he, somewhat exasperated but glad to be fully outfitted and on the way at last, brought up the rear.

When they pulled up at the fair ten minutes later, he couldn't say he was particularly impressed. There were rides set up, and pennants flying above tents, all in bright, gaudy colors; people—mostly parents with children—were milling around, talking and laughing.

It wasn't his idea of an ideal afternoon (which currently involved some quiet, uninterrupted time alone with Phoebe and a long nap), but he could see why it was something Piper would enjoy. This was the kind of thing normal families did, and he was long familiar with her desire to emulate normalcy whenever she could.

"Leo, would you mind facing me?" Piper was holding a video camera at eye-level and a digital camera in her free hand. "I want to record this…Wyatt?" She put on her brightest, most engaging smile. "Wyatt, sweetie, look at Mommy. Look at Mommy!"

Wyatt, turned away from her and facing the colorful, noisy crowd, clearly had other plans.

"He'd got too much other interesting stuff to look at," Paige pointed out with a laugh. "Besides, you've got enough pictures to fill two albums already. Give it a rest and enjoy yourself—you've hardly been out of the house since he was born, especially since you've been taking care of almost everything over at P3 by phone."

Sighing, Piper switched the video camera off and returned both cameras to their respective cases. "Fine. But if he does anything memorable during this trip and I don't get it on film—"

"It won't be the end of the world," Phoebe cut in, placing a hand on each of Piper's shoulders and steering her to Leo's side. "Look, it's a nice day, and we're together doing something normal families do. Don't waste the time obsessing—life and demonic lulls are just too short."

"Phoebe!" Piper hissed. Obviously, she didn't approve of the mention of demons in public.

"Oh, come on," Phoebe said dismissively, moving back to stand beside him and entwining her fingers with his. "Like anyone's listening to us with all this noise? _Relax._" A short pause. "So, assuming anything here is geared at our age group over theirs"—she tilted her head in the direction of a group of passing children—"what's first on the agenda?"

"A street fair's an excuse to indulge your inner child," Paige said before Piper could answer. "Nothing here's really meant to appeal to the mature crowd, unless you count the vendors, and there's better shopping just about anywhere else." She shrugged. "Anyone for the merry-go-round?"

More than enough rides, some cotton candy, one short-lived balloon animal and an annoying, poorly-trained monkey (which they could only hope hadn't been carrying diseases, as it'd touched all three women) later, Wyatt finally had enough of his first street fair, and Piper headed back to the car, intending to get her film developed—the cameras had come back out somewhere along the line—and Paige orbed the rest of them home. Leo went separately with the baby, who was beginning to fuss again.

"Ten-thirty," Paige said, releasing their hands and checking her watch. "I have a date in an hour that I have to get ready for."

Ah. That explained where she'd been disappearing to in the afternoons this past week.

"With Nate?" Phoebe asked, turning to her sister with an interested look. "How's it going with him?"

"He's nice. Probably not Mr. Right, but we have a little chemistry and he's fun to be with. Who knows?" she added with a smile, sounding hopeful. "A couple more demon-free days, and I might even be crazy enough to invite him to dinner."

Having experienced firsthand just how hazardous the manor could be for a mortal, he would agree she'd have to be crazy to invite one in—wards or no wards—but it wasn't any of his business.

Fortunately for Nate, however, Phoebe, being Paige's sister, was perfectly free to meddle in her affairs. "That might not be the best idea, honey," she said ruefully. "Even without demons, there's Wyatt to think about…he's been coming into his powers awfully fast, especially that force field thing, and he's too little to know not to use them in front of strangers." Perhaps sensing disappointment, she gave Paige a consoling pat on the shoulder. "If the relationship gets serious—like, telling-the-big-secret serious—then go ahead and bring him over. Otherwise…"

"I know," Paige said wryly, "and for now, my vibe's that it's not going to." Then, cheering up a bit, "Still, no reason to let that spoil a perfectly good date. I've been with plenty of love-'em-and-leave-'em guys." That settled, she turned and went upstairs.

"Paige," Phoebe said fondly, shaking her head. Then she dropped onto the living room sofa and motioned him over. He sat down beside her, and she leaned into his side. "So," she said after a moment, "what'd you think of the fair?"

"You can guess," he said with a laugh. "Definitely more a parent-child thing, and even as an outing…" He shrugged. "I'm not into normalcy like Piper, and even if I were…"

"You like something aimed a little more at grownups?" she said knowingly, looking up at him. "Yeah, I got that. I enjoyed it, though—not just the whole 'first outing as an aunt' thing, but being around all those other people. It was the first time I'd really been in a crowd since my empathy clicked on…I was a little worried when we first got out of the car," she confided, "but it was actually much easier to deal with than I thought it'd be. All the happiness I was picking up from the kids…it made me remember how much I loved fairs and stuff when I was little."

He could picture her as a child like one of the ones they'd seen today, running around laughing—especially after having met her ten-year-old self. "You went to lots of them?"

"In the summers, yeah," she said, her smile turning nostalgic. "Piper and I used to go on the rides together—Prue would pretend to think it was silly when we first got there, but we'd beg her to come with us, and she'd give in after the first one or two, when she saw how much fun we were having." She shook her head. "Even then, she was trying to play the adult and take care of us. But when Andy would come along, she'd always loosen up…"

That was a name he hadn't heard before—or if he had, it wasn't one he remembered. "Andy?"

"Andy Trudeau," Phoebe explained, a shadow of sadness flitting over her face. "He was a police inspector—Darryl's partner at the precinct. We all used to play together as kids, and he and Prue were high school sweethearts. They had an on-again, off-again thing after we became Charmed…it could've grown into more, I think, but he was killed by a demon…one of the first Innocents we lost."

Oh. No wonder Andy's wasn't a name often mentioned. "You'll have to ask her if she's looked him up," he said lightly, hoping to lift Phoebe's spirits again, "when the Elders finally let you summon her down."

"I like to think she gives them hell Up There," she said, managing a smile. "I mean, it's been two years…they can't keep us apart forever." A short pause, then, softly, "I wish they'd let her be here for our handfasting, like Mom was for Piper's."

"You could always try calling her just before," he suggested. "Maybe for a special occasion…" Two years _was_ long enough to grieve and accept a loss, and Phoebe was right in saying that the Elders had to ease up at some point.

"I won't count on it," she said dryly, laughing a little. "The most I'm hoping for is to get through it without a hitch—after all, this is our third attempt to get married, not counting that time we were possessed…"

That was something he wouldn't forget in a hurry. "Hijacked by outlaw ghosts in the morning, several armed robberies in the afternoon, and getting shot in the early evening," he said, shaking his head. "Still…you did accept my proposal right after the near-death experience."

He saw a flash of regret in her eyes. "And I'm still sorry it took that long." A short pause, then, contemplatively, "Wyatt's safely delivered and more or less settled in, and we haven't had a demonic attack since the wards went up. We can probably start planning the ceremony within the next week or two—it shouldn't take that long to put together."

They were still technically married, as the unfinished divorce papers were gathering dust in the bedroom, but the Dark wedding had hardly been a true marriage. This handfasting ceremony would be—and more importantly, it would their choice and their commitment. There would be no deception this time, no coercion. _And—though it's probably too much to ask—we can at least _hope_ for no problems…_

He remembered Piper and Leo's wedding—picture-perfect until the crash of a motorcycle through the front doors—and amended the thought. _In this family? Definitely too much to ask._

"No," he agreed with a nod. "Piper probably still has the florist's number; you have your dress, and I have a suit somewhere. Besides that, we only need dinner for the family and to summon your grandmother."

"And to set up an altar," she reminded him, then glanced down at her watch. "Speaking of setting things up," she said, rising, "I only have half an hour before I have to be at that meeting. I need to change into something that says 'professional woman devoted to her career' and fix my makeup, and I have about ten minutes to do it…" Bending, she gave him a quick kiss, then rushed upstairs.

He leaned back against the sofa cushions and let his eyes close—and he must have fallen asleep, because what seemed only a moment later, there was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him, and he looked up to find Leo there, standing in front of the sofa with a concerned look on his face and the baby in his arms.

"Piper's calling me," he said tersely. "Something's wrong—I need to go."

He barely had time to process that information before the Whitelighter lay Wyatt in his lap and orbed out.

It wasn't the first time Cole had held him—in three weeks, it was a given that the baby would have been in every available set of arms; and besides, Phoebe had insisted ("He's your nephew, too"); but he was still new at it, and he generally liked to have a bit more warning than this. Handling something—_someone_—so fragile made him a bit nervous.

"Up you go," he said, gently lifting Wyatt so that his little head rested on his shoulder, the baby's breath feather-light warmth against the side of his neck. "Okay?"

A little squirming, but no whining, so he assumed everything was all right. Wyatt's head was supported, anyway, and all three sisters plus Leo agreed that that was the most important thing.

It was hard to believe that this tiny, helpless infant was going to grow up to wield so much power. "Twice-blessed," he said quietly, reaching up to stroke the baby's downy blond hair with his free hand. "You are, you know that? You've got a great future ahead of you and a family that loves you—I can hardly get your Aunt Phoebe away from your bassinet sometimes…"

He rose when he heard the key turn in the lock, and an instant later, the door burst open. _Speak of the witch… _ Phoebe, home—he glanced at the grandfather clock, unbroken for a record five weeks—surprisingly early from her meeting, an expression of alarm on her face. He lay Wyatt down in the bassinet and moved to her side.

"Phoebe? What's wrong?"

"_I lost my hearing during the meeting!"_

Her voice was too loud—_much_ too loud—and he couldn't help but flinch.

She grimaced, too, and her "Sorry," came more quietly—she'd felt his reaction to the previous volume. "Didn't mean to hurt your ears."

He motioned for her to follow him, entering the kitchen and picking up the pad and pencil Piper kept by the phone, then writing, **Any idea how it happened?**

"I haven't done anything that could've damaged my hearing," she said, shaking her head. "No ear infection, no excessively loud noises or blows to the head, and no demonic activity all day." A short pause, then she amended, "Well, none I noticed."

**Anything unusual about something you ate or drank?** he wrote. **Or anything that got near your**

He paused in mid-sentence, remembering the monkey that had bothered them at the fair. It'd jumped from Phoebe to Paige to Piper, touching ears, mouth, and eyes respectively, and then run off…

He hadn't thought much of it at the time, dismissing it as some clown's living prop, but now the little primate seemed much more sinister. Phoebe's inability to hear couldn't be a coincidence, and following the theory to its logical conclusion, Piper might have called for Leo after losing her sight, and Paige was, in all likelihood, mute by now.

_This is what we get for letting our guard down, isn't it?_ he thought, a little bitterly. _Perfect._

"You figured it out." Statement, not question. "What happened?"

**I think the monkey somehow stole your hearing, and if I'm right, Piper's sight and Paige's speech.**

Her eyes went wide, and he saw the flash of realization cross her face, followed quickly by acute concern. "My ears…Paige's mouth…Piper's eyes," she said to herself. Then, to him, "We are _so _screwed. D'you have any idea how many demons'll be lining up to take a shot at—"

He nodded grimly, cutting her off, then stuffed the pad and pencil into his jeans pocket before moving to the bassinet to pick up Wyatt. With an unknown and potentially powerful demon targeting Phoebe and her sisters, it wouldn't wise to leave the baby unattended while they checked the Book.

Returning to Phoebe's side, he gestured to indicate the stairs.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "Time to hit the Book."

In the attic, Phoebe moved to stand behind the lectern, turning the ancient tome's heavy parchment pages. Cole, meanwhile, sat down on the sofa with Wyatt and called for the baby's father.

Orb-lights glittered in the center of the room, and an instant later, Piper and Leo materialized. "Don't tell me we have another emergency," the Whitelighter said tersely, noticing Phoebe checking the Book.

"No, same as yours, I think," Cole deadpanned, then turned his attention to Piper. "Are you blind?"

The eldest Halliwell turned her head in his direction, but didn't make eye contact, and that was all the answer he needed.

"Yes." Her voice was tight, agitated. "How'd you—"

"Because Phoebe's deaf," he cut in, moving to transfer Wyatt into Leo's arms, "and unless I'm wrong, Paige—wherever she is—is mute. It's all something to do with that—"

"Flea-bitten monkey," Piper finished for him, scowling as she allowed Leo to lead her to the sofa. "Thanks, Cole; already on that train of thought. Any demons you know that could've sent it?"

He shook his head, then realized that, to a blind woman, it was a profoundly useless gesture. "Not offhand," he said. "But this kind of subtlety points to an upper-level demon—"

"Eureka!" Phoebe exclaimed, pointing to the page open in front of her. "I have found the monkey!" She motioned him over, and he read the heading 'Monkey Totem' then went on to scan the entry.

"Cliff Notes version," Phoebe said for Piper's benefit, "is that the monkey was created by a sorcerer a couple of centuries ago, and he used it to trap his enemies' senses. He wasn't all that kind to the monkey, though, so it stole his voice, and he punished it by turning it into a totem."

"Which can also steal senses," Piper said grimly. "Lovely: see, hear and speak no evil with a little demonic twist." Then, presumably to Leo, "Find Paige, right now. I don't know if she can use her power without her voice or not, but whoever's after us, we're safest together."

Phoebe gave him a questioning look when Leo orbed out, and Cole wrote down the gist of Piper's instructions for her. He'd barely put the pencil down when Paige reappeared, Wyatt in her arms and sans Leo.

"Where's Leo?" Phoebe asked.

Paige pointed upward, and Cole shook his head in disgust. "You're mute, Phoebe's deaf, and Piper's blind; there's a powerful demon after all of you, and he goes to the Elders—" He cut himself off and threw up his hands. "Fine. We all know he's going to come back and tell us they know squat, but our day just wouldn't be complete if we didn't involve them, right?"

No answer, but he didn't want one—that little rant had been rhetorical. He took a deep breath, released it slowly, then went to join Phoebe by the Book. **Anything?** he wrote.

She shook her head. "We have no idea what kind of demon sent the monkey," she explained, "so right now, we're stuck on the defensive, waiting for whoever it is to make the next move."

**No, we're not.** Paige, who'd by then given Wyatt to Piper and located a pad of her own, angled the message so Phoebe could see. **We know it's an upper-level demon, and they all need to be vanquished by a potion with their own flesh. We don't have the flesh, obviously, but we can at least get the basic brew ready.**

Phoebe repeated that aloud, and Piper nodded agreement. "Sitting here isn't going to bring us any closer to kicking ass on this demon and getting our senses back," she said. "Paige, copy down the potion recipe; you and Phoebe can work on that. Cole—you're the demonologist; you keep looking through the Book."

Paige nodded, scrawled Piper's instructions on a pad for Phoebe, then began to turn pages.

"And you?" he asked Piper.

She shrugged and gave a half-hearted chuckle as she got up, shifting Wyatt's weight to her other arm. "I'm pretty much useless right now as far as combat prep, so I'll be in the nursery. Any demon shows up, Wyatt's force field should keep me covered long enough for one of you to come help." Turning, she headed for the door.

"You'll be okay on the stairs?" he asked.

"I grew up in this house," she said lightly, making her way slowly across the room. "Besides, I'll hold the banister."

He knew she wouldn't risk harm to Wyatt by trying to navigate the stairs if she really thought she couldn't, so he was satisfied with that.

"Cockles, crickets, pig's feet, mandrake, toadflax, a dash of cardamom, a pinch of carrot seeds, and elm bark," Phoebe muttered, double-checking the Book's recipe against her sister's written list. "Okay. Just copy that incantation down, and we're set."

Paige did so, then pocketed the copied instructions and shut the Book, motioning for him to take it. Half-smiling at the irony—what'd become of the sisters who'd been paranoid about having him in the same room with it?—he hefted it into his arms and followed Phoebe and her sister downstairs.

_This,_ he thought, suppressing a sigh, _is going to be one of those days._

_A/N: Eleven-ish on Sunday should count as 'late this weekend', I think, as promised. By the way, as I mentioned on my LJ, all chapters are now polished with little edits, and some with small additions (i.e., a few lines). You should also have noticed the new prologue in chapter one, and I'd really love your thoughts on that—in addition to this chapter, of course! Again, specific comments are beyond appreciated, and both long (i.e., one paragraph or more) and short reviews are wonderful!_


	20. Making Connections

Silence.

Phoebe hadn't heard a thing since her hearing had grown indistinct during the meeting—_God, that was _humiliating—and finally left her altogether; and now, in the kitchen with Paige and Cole, finishing up the potion base, she was beginning to realize just how much she'd taken it for granted.

She'd hated not being able to follow everything that'd been said in the attic—the notes had helped, of course, but there were still bits missing. Oh, not need-to-know information; just little things, like whatever Cole had said after Paige had indicated Leo had gone to the Elders, or that quip of Piper's that'd followed her reading on the monkey totem—the things they said to release tension and cope with the fact that there was a demon on the loose. Hardly critical stuff, but just _them_, as much a part of them as the sound of their voices.

But although that aspect of her deafness made her uneasy, she knew she was probably the best off of the three of them. She wasn't as vulnerable as Piper, nor did she have the trouble with her powers that Paige's lack of a voice was causing her. Besides, she could read her family's faces and their stances—not to mention their emotions—as clearly as any of the notes she was given. That was enough to let her make a fairly accurate guess at what was being said.

They'd all come up with coping mechanisms after a while. Paige was communicating in writing to compensate for her lack of speech; Piper's senses of touch and hearing must already be taking up the slack left by her missing vision, and when no written transcription was given, she seemed to be falling back onto her vision and her empathic perception.

It was just as well that she wasn't entirely dependant on notes, since she couldn't expect Cole to copy down every sentence word for word, especially with a demon after them and his mind very obviously on other things. She could feel his focus as he read, tinged with frustration. Nothing yet, despite his best efforts, which had to be as maddening to him as the relentless silence was to her.

When she got her hearing back, she promised herself, she would never complain again when Wyatt's crying woke her up at three A.M.—she'd consider herself lucky that it could!

Paige tapped her on the shoulder, returning her attention to the task at hand, and she read the note her sister had written: **You'd better read the incantation to catalyze this—or whatever it does—because I can't.**

She nodded and took a several steps back from the stove, motioning for Paige to do the same. They'd made this potion twice before, and it was more than a little explosive. After a moment, she read the words printed on the paper, struck again by the strangeness of being unable to hear her own voice as she spoke. All the sensations were right—the vibration in her throat, the motion of her tongue and lips—but the sound was simply gone.

She saw the familiar explosion in the pot as she finished the spell, smelled the acrid smoke that billowed toward the ceiling, and missed the noise that was part of this process, because it was just one more thing that _should _have been there and wasn't.

Potion-brewing was never quiet: there was the rustle of dried herbs, the clinking of glass jars, the rapid bubble of boiling water, the rhythmic scrape of the spoon's bowl against the bottom of the pot as they stirred. And all of that—things she'd never really taken enough notice of—didn't even count the conversation.

Paige reached to turn off the stove and replaced the lid on the pot. **Looks okay, right?** she wrote.

"No different than when we brewed it the other two times, anyway," Phoebe said with a shrug, moving to retrieve the turkey baster and a couple of vials from the cabinet. The potion wasn't finished yet, but it never hurt to have all supplies at hand in advance. Setting them down on the counter, she moved to sit beside Cole at the table.

"Nothing yet?" she said sympathetically, knowing without having to ask. "Want any help?"

He shook his head, reaching for the pad and pencil at his right hand.** Even eliminating all the ones you've already vanquished, there're too many upper-level demons that could potentially be after you.**

"I could try writing a spell to summon the totem," she suggested, "if whoever has it didn't put it under magical lock and key." Even as she spoke, though, she knew that wouldn't work—possession of the Charmed Ones' senses was just too big an advantage not to guard. "Never mind," she said with a sigh. "Any other ideas?"

Paige moved to join them, sitting down across from her and reaching for the pad. **Try for a premonition—at this point, your power's our best shot.**

The Book, still in front of Cole, was open to the entry on the monkey totem. Reaching over, she pulled it toward her. "I'll start with this page," she said, "and if I don't get anything, I'll go through the upper-level demon entries until I do."

She shut her eyes, then pressed both hands to the parchment, concentrating intently on the mental image of the monkey from that morning. _Come on,_ she thought. _Show me who sent you._

Nothing. She stared into the silent darkness, about to pull her hands back when—

The familiar jolt of power, electric, nearly sharp; then images begin to uncoil and spin in her head, a roll of film run too fast. _Flash!_ An old woman, dressed in long robes, is caressing a wooden totem—three small monkeys, in the familiar see, hear and speak no evil poses, stacked atop each other.

_Flash!_ Wyatt's nursery. She appears there and approaches Piper, who is sitting in the rocking chair with the baby—but when she speaks, it is not in the aged rasp Phoebe might expect, but with Paige's stolen voice. "Let me hold him?"

_Flash!_ Piper, fallen from her chair, lying unconscious on the floor; Wyatt in the demoness' arms, a halo of gold light emanating from the hand she holds above his head, her own thrown back and her wizened face contorted in what looks like ecstasy—

The vision shattered, and she opened her eyes, not even pausing to catch her breath before she leapt up, feeling the chair behind her pitch backward—she maneuvered around it as quickly as she could, bolting for the stairs and taking them two at a time.

_We left them alone and vulnerable all this time—if she took him, I'll never forgive myself…_

Bursting into the nursery, she breathed a silent sigh of relief when she found Wyatt was in his crib, surrounded by the sphere of electric blue light that was his force field. When she bent over him, he let it fall, and she picked her nephew up, scrutinizing him for injuries.

Cole and Paige entered only seconds behind her, Paige rushing to kneel beside Piper and Cole joining Phoebe next to the crib, his relief as obvious to her as her own. She gave him a questioning look, and he gestured to indicate Wyatt.

"How'd you know?" she asked, then noticed that he wasn't holding the pad, and thus couldn't make an answer. Putting the question aside, she looked heavenward and called for Leo, who obediently materialized.

Seeing Piper knocked out, he dropped immediately to his knees and held softly glowing hands over the side of her head.

She woke almost at once, getting to her feet and looking furious. Phoebe couldn't read her lips well enough to make out what she said—especially given how quickly she was speaking—but guessed it was some question about whether Wyatt was all right and how she'd come to be knocked out, most likely in that order.

"I saw the demon," she said as soon as her sister finished. "An old woman, long gray hair and really intense eyes—she got Paige's voice out of the totem somehow and used it to trick you, Piper; and she was holding Wyatt…"

Leo reached for his son, and she transferred the baby into his arms, letting the Whitelighter check for damage. Then, turning toward Cole, she asked, "Am I ringing any bells?" She asked out of habit rather than need—she could feel his earlier agitation ebbing as his thoughts ordered themselves, could see the pensive look on his face, and that was as much a 'yes' as any verbal answer.

He nodded, already heading toward the door, and motioned for her to follow. Back in the kitchen, he sat down again and retrieved the pad. **That's the Crone you saw—a demonic seer, very powerful and respected. She's been around for centuries.**

Righting her chair, she took her seat beside him and began to turn the Book's pages. "Is the potion going to work?"

**I can already tell you Piper's freeze won't.** His expression was grim, and she sensed his concern. **If I were you, I'd write a Power of Three spell to vanquish her—you don't want to try getting close enough to her to get her flesh.**

Reading over the entry on the demon in question, Phoebe had to admit that using a vanquishing spell looked like their safest bet. "When you say 'very powerful' you mean it, don't you?" she asked rhetorically. According to the Book, the Crone was more often heard of than seen, and had influence over the dispensation of upper-level demonic powers.

Phoebe didn't even want to think how many she must possess herself. "I'll start now on summoning and vanquishing spells—you go tell Piper and Paige about the Crone."

He shook his head. **I can't say whether getting that vision from Wyatt was her only goal,** he wrote, **and if she attacks, you're too vulnerable alone without your hearing. Come upstairs with me and write the spells there.**

"You're sure that was what she was doing?" she asked, getting up and heading for the stairs. "Calling a vision?"

He held out the pad after a moment, and she read his answer. **She's a seer—what else would she do? He'd have been dead if she'd wanted to kill him, and Piper, too, if she'd wanted to eliminate the Charmed Ones—besides, I've seen enough seers and oracles at work to know what it looks like.**

"What it _looks_ like? But you didn't—" She cut herself off and looked over her shoulder at him, reading a tacit answer in the calm certainty she saw in his face. "You did? How's that even possible?"

His reply didn't venture an explanation.** Right now, we have to focus on vanquishing the Crone and retrieving your senses.**

She knew he was right—his seeing her premonition, while definitely not the norm, didn't qualify as an emergency—so she relegated her questions to the back of her mind and reentered the nursery, taking the pad and pencil from him.

As he began to speak—presumably to brief them all on the Crone—she wrote down a summoning spell, easily rewording the one they'd once used on Cole. _Now for a vanquish…_

That took a little longer, since it was always better to incorporate a little specific information about the target demon into a vanquishing spell, but she'd had long practice at this kind of thing, and finishing the quatrain wasn't that difficult.

Then she wrote it down twice more, realizing only belatedly that she hardly needed to give Piper and Paige copies of the spell this time—not when the former couldn't see the words and the latter couldn't speak them. Shaking her head (half in amusement at her error, half in dismay), she tore off and pocketed the sheet of paper holding the spells.

"Finished," she said as she turned back toward them. "Now what? The usual summon-and-vanquish?"

Since Phoebe was still holding the pad Cole had been using, it was Paige who supplied the answer, scrawling quickly, **Leo's going to take Wyatt up to the attic first. We don't want him in the line of fire, especially if the Crone decides to take another shot.**

She looked up from the words just in time to see the last traces of vanishing orb-lights. "Attic?" she asked.

Paige nodded, then reached to close her hand around Piper's, guiding her into line even as Phoebe took her younger sister's free hand. _We'll be fine,_ she told herself. _Vulnerable spots or not, we have the Power of Three—that's always been enough for any vanquish._ Releasing a long breath, she withdrew the sheet of paper (now slightly crumpled) from her pocket.

She glanced to the side, seeing Cole a few feet away from her, near their chain but not linked into it—acknowledging, she knew, that this was their battle. Returning her attention to her sisters, she smoothed out the paper and held it up to eye-level.

"_Magic forces black and white  
Reaching out through space and light,  
Be she far or be she near  
Bring us the Crone, far-seeing, here."_

A powerful gust of wind swept through the room—probably howling, though she had no way of knowing—and a moment later, a vortex of dense fog leapt from the floor, dispersing within seconds to reveal the Crone.

She made no move to attack them, nor to run—she just stood there, arms folded over her chest, looking for all the world like she was sizing them up and finding them well below standard. Phoebe had to give her credit: most demons couldn't pull off a sneer quite that contemptuous in face of the Power of Three. _She's either very confident, or a real idiot._

She had a sinking feeling it wasn't the latter—demons didn't survive as long as the Crone apparently had by being stupid. Quickly, she began the vanquishing spell: _"Powers of the sisters three, rise against this—"_

That was as far as she got.

There was a flash of bright red light, then a wave of concussive force that threw them apart and sent them hurtling backwards—Piper and Paige in one direction, Phoebe in another. She hit the wall, slid down to her knees and looked up, half-stunned, just in time to see her sisters slam against the crib, which overturned, a blanket and several toys spilling over the rail.

And then she bit back a cry as the shock of their combined pain ripped through her, throbbing with dull agony at her shoulders, her back (well, to be fair, a share of that was her own). Her hip ached, too, and she saw that that injury belonged to Piper, whose side had taken the brunt of the impact.

Only Cole was still standing, both hands held before him and glowing. Apparently, his deflection had let him ward off enough of the blow to keep his footing. She felt his concern as he glanced back at her, but he didn't move.

She could understand that: he could see she was all right—well, miscellaneous aches and pains aside—and keeping all attention on their enemy was the safest thing to do. If she could throw them like this (literally and metaphorically speaking) when they were face-to-face and on their guard, she didn't like to think what she'd do if they were stupid enough to turn their backs on her for a second.

Before she could rise and rejoin her sisters, begin the vanquishing spell again—faster this time—the Crone said something and the monkey totem appeared in a flash of light, looking deceptively innocent in her open hands. Another command, and each of the three sections glowed in turn.

"What did you do?" Cole demanded of the demoness.

There was a sharp edge in his voice—mingled anger and warning—and she heard it. She _heard _it! "I can hear!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet.

Both her sisters followed suit. "And I can see," Piper said tightly, taking Paige's hand again and raising her free one threateningly, "which means I can aim. So start talking, lady—why'd you play this game with us, and what'd you want with my son?"

"He will wield great power," the Crone said simply, a maniacal gleam in her eyes. "I suspected, but that half-vision was a mere _taste_…I had to know the full measure of his potential." A short pause, then, with a snort, "I didn't expect you would allow me to lay hands on him; hence"—she held up the totem—"this little…_distraction_."

"Uh-huh. Nice," Paige said dryly. Then, adopting a tone of mocking curiosity, she asked, "So…now that we have our senses back, what's one good reason why we shouldn't just vanquish your ass?"

"Self-interest," the Crone retorted. She snapped her fingers, and the totem vanished again—too late, Phoebe realized that they really should have gotten it away from her and destroyed it. "I think we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement."

She could feel Cole's disgust. "There's no such thing as 'mutual benefit' when dealing with demons," he said tightly, giving the Crone a sharp look. "Only Faustian deals." Without diverting his gaze, he added, "The best thing to do would be to vanquish her. Now."

She agreed with him—his deal with the Seer had taught her that it was never safe to strike bargains with evil. There'd always be some kind of hidden catch that would come back to bite them, and once bitten was supposed to be twice shy.

"I will not make another attempt on the child," the Crone drawled, holding Piper's eyes. "A law will be written forbidding others of my kind from doing the same…if I live."

Piper glanced at Cole for confirmation. "She has that kind of power?"

He nodded, silent, and she felt his disapproval of where this was going. But it was Piper's choice to make—her son that could benefit or fall to harm.

"Fine." Her sister's voice was hard. "Conditions: the first demon that comes anywhere _near_ him, we will summon and vanquish you. We never hear from you or anyone connected with you again. The first sign of _anything_ tracing back to you—any more of that monkey business or whatever other crap, and we kill you."

"Done."

And with that, she vanished.

There was a long, tense silence, which Paige finally broke. "I really hope that wasn't a bad move," she said, bending to pick up the things that had fallen out of the crib, then tossing them back in. "For once, I agree with Cole—we don't make deals with demons. We vanquish them."

Phoebe moved to help her right the crib. "It was a leap of faith kind of thing," she said after a moment. "And yeah, it could blow up in our faces. But at this point, it's kind of late to do more than just hope it doesn't."

"What're the odds she'll keep her word?" Piper asked.

"The fact that she didn't kill Wyatt earlier means that she wants him unharmed," Cole said simply, coming to stand at Phoebe's side. "It's not hard to guess why—demons worship power. The Crone wants his power intact, and she wants it turned to her advantage."

Piper's lips pressed into a thin, grim line. "So she's a long-term threat," she surmised.

"Only if we give her a chance to be," he pointed out. "I'm fairly sure she'll write that law and prevent any more attacks on him—it'll be for her own reasons, but she'll do it." A short pause; then a sigh, almost inaudible. "Long-term gain with short-term, if high, risk. Give it a month or two so she has the time she needs to push a law through, then vanquish her. She's too dangerous to let live any longer than necessary."

This was a demon who'd been powerful enough to breach their wards and throw them across the room like rag dolls, and it was rare for them to encounter any significant threat when they were together in the manor. Cole was right: the Crone had to go, and as soon as possible.

She focused on him again, gauging his feelings on the severity of the situation, and was relieved to find he wasn't afraid. Concerned, cautious, but not afraid. _Which is good,_ _because if a demonic threat scares _him_, we should all have been orbing for the hills about ten minutes ago._

The Source had been a case in point.

"We'll have to summon some minor demon every couple of weeks," Piper said with distaste, "so we'll know the when the law goes into effect. But for now"—she winced as she gingerly prodded her shoulder and hip, and Phoebe hissed with pain—"we need these bruises taken care of. Leo!"

The Whitelighter returned downstairs immediately, laying Wyatt in his crib to free his hands, then healing Piper, Paige and finally Phoebe. "You're okay?" he asked Cole when he finished.

"Yeah," he said with a nod, brushing Leo's extended hand aside. "Deflection, remember?" A brief pause, and he half-smiled, admitting, "It's stronger than I thought it was—with a blow like that, I wasn't expecting much more than lessened impact."

"The Book wouldn't call it 'a witch's best shield against the forces of Darkness' for nothing," Phoebe pointed out. "Still, I guess you're right that that doesn't exactly say anything about its limits…"

"It wouldn't," Piper said, taking Wyatt into her arms. There was still some wariness in her face, and Phoebe sensed mixed relief and fear—relief that the baby was all right; fear of what might have happened and what still could. "It's not a power that's ever run in our family line, so there's not much written on it."

That reminded her of something she'd wanted an answer for earlier. "Speaking of powers," she said slowly, turning to Leo, "have you ever heard of two witches sharing them?"

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a quizzical look. "You mean like with a switching spell?"

"No," Cole said, shaking his head and releasing a sigh that was half fatigue, half irritation. He'd probably rather have waited to discuss this until after they'd figured it out themselves. "What she means is, we both saw the premonition she had of the Crone."

Piper frowned as she shifted Wyatt's weight to her other arm. "Forgive me for stating the obvious here, Cole, but premonitions aren't exactly your department," she said dryly. "So spill. What spell or potion did you screw up and when?"

"I didn't," he said shortly, looking affronted. "I may be new to this power and these rules, but I grew up with magic, and I know damn well not to use it like some toy."

A short silence, and Piper's gaze turned to her, at once annoyed and expectant. "Phoebe?"

"Don't give me that look, Piper," she said simply, raising a staying hand. "I've come a long way from being—what'd Prue call it that time?—Little Miss Spell-of-the-Week. Whatever this is, I'm not responsible for it."

They hadn't done anything that could have—

Unless.

Epiphany. She remembered the ritual that had constructed the wards, the connection of jewel-toned lights; remembered balance, entwining; and thought of the coil of radiant heat that was his power, meshed with hers ever since.

Looking up, she met his eyes and saw he'd come to the same conclusion.

"Actually, I think I know what we did," she said after a moment, returning her attention to her sisters. "Come on—attic. I want to make sure I'm right and figure out exactly what it means."

_A/N: Forgive my lateness, but school's been work intensive lately, and that work has to come before everything else, including food, sleep and this story. Update schedule's been revised to reflect that—let's say a new chapter every two weeks, which is a more realistic goal at this point. Next up, more on Phoebe and Cole's connection and its repercussions—until then, please review and tell me what you think of this! Again, I love long reviews (one paragraph and up), but short ones are great, too!_


	21. What Lies Between

"So what you're saying is, after the wards went up, you didn't completely disconnect?" Piper asked Cole, looking up from her place behind the Book's lectern. "You could still…feel Phoebe, sense her, whatever the ritual let us do?"

"I didn't think it was anything to worry about at the time," he explained, "and after that, I didn't give it much more thought." A short pause, then, dryly, "Until this afternoon, anyway."

Phoebe, standing at Piper's side and reading over her shoulder, looked pensive. "We didn't discuss it," she said, half to herself, "because it was just…something that was there. We both knew the other felt it, I think, because during the ritual the link went both ways..." She glanced at him for confirmation, and he nodded. "It was good to be connected," she finished. "Like magic was echoing what was already there emotionally."

Which, he reflected, was probably why it'd felt so natural. "What are we looking for?" he asked Piper, moving to Phoebe's side. "Some kind of diagnostic spell?"

"I want to see what's going on," Phoebe said, giving Piper a nudge and taking her older sister's place directly in front of the Book. "Modifying the enchantment spell might work—you know, substitute 'magic' for 'evil'—but that needs an object to enchant, so it'd probably be easier to cast a spell to see the unseen."

Paige, absently rearranging the potions supplies on the worktable, looked up with a shrug. "Tweaking the last line of the vanishing spell would work for that," she said. "You know, 'As I cause the unseen to be seen' instead of the other way around?"

"That should do it," Piper said, stepping back and crossing the room to sit down beside Leo on the sofa. "Then one more line before that to make a couplet—maybe 'Reveal the bonds that lie between?'"

Phoebe nodded, locating a pad and pencil and writing that down, then tearing off the sheet of paper and tucking it into the Book—presumably in case the spell was needed again—before closing it, then moving to his side and reaching to take his hands. _"Reveal the bonds that lie between,"_ she chanted quietly, _"as I cause the unseen to be seen."_

He felt the subtle press of the spell, vibration turned inward—closer to a shiver this time than the great surge of the ritual that had necessitated it—and then there was a sudden blaze of light—no, of _lights_—and he closed his eyes tightly against it, an instant too late to escape a flood of glowing afterimages.

After a moment, he opened his eyes again and blinked his vision clear, half-startled to see the radiant band between them—two entwined strands, one silver and the other gold—beginning over his heart and ending over hers. His power, ruby-bright, extended from the edges of the band and through Phoebe's sapphire energies like veins through marble.

He met Phoebe's eyes; saw her gaze intent on him the way his had to be on her. "It's the same with you," she said after a moment, releasing one of his hands and reaching to lay her palm flat against his chest, "but reversed—my power in yours."

So he'd seen her premonition simply because he now possessed that power—in some form or measure, at least—and that was the way it behaved: allowing the bearer to see the future or past. "Makes sense," he said. "After all, we did feel this happening—this meshing together. We'll have to experiment; see what we can do with it, and what the limits are—"

"We already know at least one," Phoebe broke in, half-smiling as she let her hand drop. Then, at his questioning look, "You're lucky enough not to be empathic—which's good, because we all know what empathy does to someone who's not supposed to have it."

Of course they knew—it'd been a plot of his that'd given them that knowledge in the first place. "So there're at least enough boundaries to provide for basic safety," he surmised, "or I'd've gone off the deep end weeks ago. That, and it's obviously fairly subtle as far as active manifestation goes, or we'd have noticed the power-sharing long before this."

"It's been about a month," she agreed with a nod, looking up from the cord of energy between them to meet his gaze, "and this is the first time the link's actually done anything. But you're right—the question is, exactly what _can_ it do? By the way it looks, it should work both ways—you're in me as much as I'm in you—but I didn't see my hands start glowing when you used your deflection."

"They wouldn't," Leo said simply, and they both turned to face him. "Phoebe, your triggering a premonition is the exception, not the norm," the Whitelighter explained. "Mostly, your power acts through you without your direction. Cole's is the opposite—it has to be used consciously." A short silence; then he shrugged and added, "Since your magical cores are linked, you should be able to learn it, with practice."

Piper got up from the sofa and moved forward a few steps, looking more closely at the link between them and their interwoven magic. "Was this"—she indicated the glowing cord—"there before the ritual, or did it come after it?"

"It would've been there before," Leo answered. "Actually, it's probably what made the magical link possible in the first place—it was just reflecting that deeper connection."

Paige looked up, her expression mingled skepticism and distaste. "Please, Leo, don't tell me you're gonna follow that with some mystic babble about soulmates. I mean, really…what're the odds that—"

"Pretty good, actually," Phoebe cut in, half-smiling at her sister. "Groups of souls travel in the same circles from life to life, teaching and learning from each other. I visited a past life of mine a couple years ago—I lived in this same house with past versions of Prue and Piper in the twenties. 'Soulmate' doesn't have to refer to romance."

Leo nodded agreement. "Just a series of repeated relationships that're supposed to foster growth," he said. "The specific relationships can change from lifetime to lifetime—Prue, Piper and Phoebe were cousins before they were sisters—but the souls involved generally don't."

"So you're saying that that"—Paige tilted her head in their direction—"is what happens when two people who're made to be in a relationship like theirs get into one and manage to make it work?"

"Yes. But even in…more ideal circumstances than theirs were….it's really rare for—" He was about to say more, but was cut off when now-familiar wails began to issue from the baby monitor he'd clipped to his belt before leaving the nursery. "I'll be back in a minute," he said apologetically.

Piper, already halfway to the door, led the way downstairs, leaving them alone in the attic with Paige.

"Can you switch that thing off?" she asked after a moment, leaving the worktable and sitting down in the place Piper had vacated. "We've seen what we needed to see, and it's kind of distracting, trying to have a conversation while you're over there glowing."

"I can see your point," Phoebe said dryly, laughing a little. One of her hands was still closed around his; she gave it an affectionate squeeze, then chanted, _"Conceal the bonds that lie between as I cause the seen to be unseen."_

The lights between and within them vanished as quickly as they'd appeared, and Phoebe gave a slight nod and a satisfied half-smile. "There. Better?"

"Much." She moved to the end of the sofa and motioned for them to sit down. He took the opposite end, and Phoebe sat between them. "This is actually really good for you," Paige remarked. "You'll be much safer packing some firepower…even more than the deflection, eventually." Then, looking to him, she added, "Your powers'll probably develop in some kind of active direction—I'd be really surprised if they didn't."

He looked to Phoebe for confirmation, and she nodded. "It's your first power that sets the template," she explained with a grin. "Piper's all have to do with the motion of molecules; Paige's are tied to her Whitelighter half; mine are perceptive—well, all but the levitation," she amended, shrugging. "Not sure where that came from, but anyway… your deflection's like a defensive-offensive cross. Any others that show up later should follow the same pattern."

He'd known how long witches' powers took to develop, but it was frustrating to have to have to adapt long-set combat tactics to his power's limitations. Waiting for an opponent to make the first move had never been his way, and had never had to be.

Even so, he had to concede the sense in the protracted approach. It was far from convenient, yes, but it was also infinitely safer. Demons' powers emerged with all abilities present—however raw and unfocused—on the cusp of adolescence; then the bearer was trained until adulthood to develop strength and refinement. Rapid maturation came with a cost, though—about half of the more powerful demons couldn't cope with the sudden surge and were driven insane, self-destructing after a brief bout of psychosis.

He'd seen it happen to some of his age-mates (it wasn't right to say companions, because that implied some degree of amicability), and nearly been through it himself. Not in childhood—he'd been fortunate to have come into his powers several years behind the norm, something he'd later attributed to his human heritage—but after he'd returned from the Wasteland, when he'd taken in so much power that his blood literally burned with it. The hallucinations he'd begun to suffer before he'd lost them, he knew, hadn't been wholly Barbas' work.

"Your mind is wandering again." Phoebe's voice broke into his thoughts, and he focused on her as she continued, almost teasingly, "Care to tell where it went?"

"Nowhere really relevant," he replied. Sharing his past with her more fully—at least the parts of it that didn't involve torture and murder—was something he'd have to do at some point, but this was hardly the time. "Question is, where are we going from here?"

"Back to the drawing board," Paige said, outstretching her arms and calling for the Book. When it materialized and the orb-lights cleared, she opened it again and began turning pages. "We're not exactly dealing with standard couple issues, here, and I'm not sure we even _have_ an entry on cross-linked powers…"

Phoebe shook her head and pressed her hand down on the open pages, stopping her sister from continuing through them. "We don't," she said dryly. "Believe me—I'd've remembered seeing something like that, and there's no point looking for what we know isn't there."

"The Book doesn't always have all the answers," Paige agreed ruefully, brushing her sister's hand aside and shutting the volume, "no matter how much we wish it did." She rose, returning it to the lectern, then looked up and asked him, "This is probably a shot in the dark, but what about you? You've been around a lot longer than we have—ever heard of something like this?"

"No," he said simply. "I'd have said so before if I had—I have no reason to keep secrets." _It's good to be able to say that honestly._ There was a short silence, then, with a wry grin, he added, "Anyway, you should know by now that Light magic isn't exactly what I have the most experience with."

"Point taken."

"I wonder what's keeping Piper and Leo?" Phoebe asked, changing the subject. "I don't hear Wyatt crying anymore, and he's not usually _that_ hard to get to sleep."

"So says the empath," Paige countered with a smirk, reclaiming her previous seat on the sofa. "The rest of us actually have to figure out what he's crying for, remember? We can't just look at him and say he's wet or hungry or tired or whatever."

"I know." Phoebe offered a half-grin, then sobered. "Still—say what you want—empathy's a mixed bag. It's nice to be able to hone in on Wyatt's wants and needs, but to counterbalance that, I get to feel everyone else's pain, fear and anger when a demon attacks, and don't even get me started on what it's like to have P.M.S. for three…"

She trailed off then, an odd, indecipherable look crossing her face, and he wished for half a second that he could sense her emotions the way she could his—just this once—because he had a feeling he was missing something important. "Phoebe?" he prompted. "Something wrong?"

"No," she said, her expression clearing almost as quickly as it'd changed. "No…everything's okay."

He gave her a skeptical look, a look that asked, 'Are you _absolutely_ sure about that?' and she smiled. "It's okay, Cole," she repeated. "Trust me—you'll be the first to know if anything's wrong, but right now, nothing is."

There was nothing in her voice but the calm certainty that came with truth, and he relaxed. She would tell him if something were the matter; they'd learned many times over that keeping things from each other wasn't good for their relationship.

He might have pressed for a fuller explanation in any case, though, if she hadn't broken in just then and distracted him. "I want to try something—can you trigger your deflection for a second?"

Opening his hands, he obliged her; and after a moment, she shut her eyes, concentrating intently, and he watched as twin lights leapt from her palms, mirroring those in his own. "How'd you figure out how to do that so fast?" he asked, folding his hands again and allowing his power to lapse back into dormancy. "Your empathy?" That made sense—after all, the trigger he used was emotion-based, and she could read emotions as easily as he could written words.

Her concentration seemed to falter when he spoke, and the lights in her hands winked out. "I was trying to—mimic—what you felt when you triggered it," she explained, opening her eyes again. "Say it's sort of like a word or a phase—the language's different than I'm used to, but I can repeat after you because I can hear the sound." Half-smiling, she added, "Doing it without prompting from you—that's going to take longer, because I'll have to really learn it myself, not just copy."

No matter that mastery could only come with time; it was enough to know this sharing between them would keep her safe—or safer, at least, than she would otherwise be—if the need for defense arose. "You'll learn," he said. "We both will."

"Add one more thing to the to-do list," Paige said wryly, shrugging. Then, half to herself, "As if we didn't already have enough on it…"

"Tell me about it," Phoebe commiserated. "Just the last hour put the Crone on the top of our demonic threat list—which is enough by itself, even with the wards—and I don't even know _how _I'm going to undo the damage her little monkey did to my career—I must've looked like an absolute idiot at that meeting!" A brief pause, and then she laughed. "You know, I have no clue what it was even about?"

"I've been to meetings I _could_ hear and come out with the same," he told her, half-smiling as he remembered some of his more pointless post-law school days. "Just say you were sick and you shouldn't have come, but you thought it'd be rude to cancel on short notice. If whatever they had to say was important, they'll repeat themselves…and probably even if it wasn't."

She opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted when Piper strode through the attic door, Wyatt in a carrier strapped to her torso and his diaper bag over her shoulder. "Everybody up," she said briskly, motioning for them to rise. "Leo'll be back in a minute, and we should be ready to go as soon as he has the portal set up—"

"Portal?" Paige said, raising an eyebrow. "What portal? And back from where? Up There?"

Wyatt made a fussy noise, and Piper began to sway back and forth, rocking him gently. "No," she said with a dry half-smile. "Surprised me too, but for once, he decided not to go Up There. He went to this place called Magic School, and as soon as he clears it with whoever's in charge—this old mentor of his, he said—we can take a little field trip and hit the library."

"Magic School?" Phoebe echoed, a little incredulous. "What's this look like, Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, I know," Piper said, moving to stand beside the sofa. "'Why didn't we know about the before, since you'd think the Elders would want their precious Charmed Ones to have training?' Short answer: they didn't think we needed to, since our powers were unbound when we were already adults." She snorted, then added tartly, "Apparently, now that the next generation is on the way, it's once again need-to-know information."

He could appreciate her irritation: this wasn't the first situation in which the Book of Shadows had fallen short, and access to a library full of magical texts might have helped the Charmed Ones through any number of crises.

Besides, he was against the withholding of knowledge on simple principle. Knowledge was power; power survival. He'd lived by and because of that philosophy.

"Piper!" Leo's voice carried up the attic stairs. "The portal's set up! Do you have Wyatt ready to go?"

"Ready and waiting!" Piper called back down, moving to the doorway. "So?" she said to them, speaking more quietly now. "You coming?"

They rose and followed her downstairs, all surprised to see a heavy, ornate wooden door—not so unlike one would expect to find in a castle—in the upstairs hallway.

"You'd better be able to put that back where it came from when we're done with it," Piper said after a long moment. "Because it absolutely cannot stay where it is."

"I'll take care of it," Leo promised, reaching to open the door, then pausing. "Can you all just…take a step back?"

They did so, and Leo pulled the door open, revealing a long corridor with pillars on either side. "Welcome to Magic School," he said, moving around the door and stepping through it. "This way."

"Talk about direct access," Paige muttered as she followed Piper into the corridor, he and Phoebe bringing up the rear. He heard a bang behind them, and saw that the door had swung shut of its own accord.

Anyone could see, he noted as Leo led them down that corridor and into a large antechamber, that this was a school, grandiose architecture aside. There were students everywhere—the younger ones walking in single-file behind harried looking adults and the older ones navigating the halls in small clusters, carrying books and bulging backpacks.

Not so different from any of the mortal schools he'd been in, save for the obvious changes in fashion and the fact that these children were witches. He saw a few carrying their textbooks telekinetically, and a few more blurring into hyper-speed as they rushed to their classes. As they passed a group of younger students, a little boy—nine or ten, maybe—conjured a pencil and flung it at the head of a girl in front of him.

"What's the age range here?" he asked. "I'm seeing as young as about six or seven and as old as mid-twenties."

"The youngest are three-year-olds; they're in a preschool program," Leo explained as he turned the corner into another hallway and motioned them toward a set of stairs, "and the oldest—mostly the ones that want to teach here, someday, or else lead their own covens—are doing postgraduate work." Pausing, he looked over his shoulder at Piper. "And speaking of the preschool, Gideon—my mentor, he runs this place," he added for their benefit, "said we should look at it while we're here. He's interested in having Wyatt attend when he's old enough."

Piper looked dubious, but finally gave a slight nod. "Five minutes on the way out," she said tightly, "and I'm not promising anything. It's too early, and I think there's a lot he could get out of a normal preschool."

"There's something to be said for mortal education," Cole agreed as they climbed the stairs. "But I'd argue against sending him to a mortal preschool—he'd be what, three, four? That's too young to be trusted not to let it slip that you and his aunts are witches, and that could potentially bring Social Services to the door."

"He's right," Paige said ruefully, sighing. "San Francisco's pretty liberal, but some people can get kind of crazy about the idea of witchcraft—I mean, after that first vanquish, I thought you and Phoebe were members of some cult. It'd take about three seconds for him to say something that could cause a lot of trouble, and only one teacher that thinks a Wiccan household isn't a good one for a child." At her sister's concerned look, she hastened to add, "It'd never get too far in the courts—nowhere near an actual custody battle—but we really can't afford to have people looking too closely at our lives."

"You have a point," she conceded, no doubt thinking of the potion ingredients in the kitchen cabinets and the fridge, the Book and chest of weaponry in the attic, and the occasional demon in the living room. "And I guess it would be good for him to know other little boys who're also magical, so he doesn't always have to keep secrets." Returning her attention to Leo, she said, "We'll look. And when he's old enough, I'll think about it."

Leo didn't press the point any further after that—he knew, as they all did, that at this point it was really too early to make any definite decisions. It was enough that Piper had agreed to keep an open mind.

Finally, they neared another door at the end of the hallway. A polished brass plaque affixed to it—a modern touch that looked starkly out of place here—proclaimed that this was the library. Below it, someone had taped up a sheet of paper listing the library's operating hours, and a sign next to that warned, in very prominent letters, to be quiet out of courtesy to those who were studying.

A few students looked up when the door opened, and a whisper or two circulated among the older ones—old enough, that is, to have read about and seen pictures of the famous Charmed Ones—but they were quelled quickly enough by the librarian, a bespectacled woman with fair hair, watchful dark eyes, and a somewhat forbidding demeanor. The nameplate on her desk read 'Miss Donovan.'

Leo made a brief introduction, which she acknowledged with a nod and a polite (if not overly warm) smile. "And of course, the vast majority of the magical community knows of you," she said to them, and then turned her attention back to the Whitelighter. "What can I help you and your family with?"

Phoebe approached the desk. "Do you have anything on power-sharing? Not like with a switching spell," she clarified, apparently remembering Leo's misconception, "but actual sharing—the five of us did this ritual a little over a month ago, pooling our powers to set up wards—and now my powers and Cole's are connected."

"Obviously the manifestation of a previously existing primary link," Donovan said matter-of-factly, betraying no sign of surprise. "We have books in the back there"—she pointed to a distant shelf marked with a sign reading 'Graduate Students and Older Only'—"on magical bonds of various types. Not many, but there should be something in at least one of them that you can use." She paused, then, as though as an afterthought, removed a sheet of paper from a drawer and handed it to Phoebe. "A copy of the Translation Spell I give the students," she explained. "Many of the older texts aren't written in English."

Phoebe thanked her, folding the paper and pocketing it, and they all headed for the area the librarian had indicated. Scanning the titles, he saw there had to be at least two dozen volumes—two-thirds of them in Latin—that could potentially contain information they needed.

"Okay," Piper said after a moment, regarding the full shelves with some dismay. "Cole, you're the one who's good with languages—without translating and looking through them all, about how many of these do we actually need to work with?"

"Most of this shelf and this one are on bonds that're based on a blood tie," he said, gesturing vaguely at the books in question. "Those are obviously out; but these—here—deal with emotion-based connections, and there're two or three that look like they might have something to do with soul-based magic."

"That still leaves over twenty," Paige complained, collecting an armful of books before standing back to let him and Phoebe do the same. "We could be here for hours!"

"Probably not," Leo said as they headed for a vacant table and set the books down. "It's a lot of material, but we're not going to read most of it; just bits and pieces. It won't take as long as you think."

"It will if we don't start," Piper said. "Phoebe, you have that spell?"

Phoebe nodded and retrieved it, unfolding the paper and smoothing it out. Then she gestured at the stacks of books and chanted quietly, _"Language of a distant land, translate so we can understand."_

The volumes glowed softly, letters rearranging themselves to form English words out of the Latin; and then they each selected one and began to skim the pages. It was slower going than any of them would have liked—the Latin was translated, all right, but into archaic English, which took a while to make sense of.

"This one's a bond based on sharing life-force," Paige said, toying absently with the gilded edge of the page she was reading. "It hasn't got the magical link, but it does have the sensing each other thing." She paused, read a little farther and made a face. "Actually, it has it in a worse form—both partners feel each other's pain or whatever else, like it's a feedback loop."

Piper raised an eyebrow. "Who'd want to cast something like that?" she asked, looking up from her own book. "It sounds like it'd be more trouble than it's worth."

"This says that two witches cast it together—they were both heavily injured, some kind of undefined combat situation, and for whatever reason the Elders didn't want their Whitelighters to heal them—you know, the whole 'it's their time' routine they pull sometimes." Paige shut that book and put it aside, then took another from the pile in the center of the table. "So this basically pooled what strength they both had left and kept them alive as long as they stayed close together."

"That seems to be a theme here," Phoebe said distractedly, not looking up as she turned another page. "A lot of these things lose strength over distance, or else their effects do. Like this, here—to make a link between two people that enables telepathy. It gets harder for the one partner to hear the other—if that's the right word—when they're far apart, and there's kind of an energy cost to the partner that's sending…like it takes more effort to yell than it does to just talk."

They lapsed back into their separate silences for a while after that, the only sounds the low conversation of the students around them and the intermittent _flick_ of turning pages. _Spell based on emotional bond—same theoretical basis, but not what we're looking for,_ he thought, shaking his head faintly and beginning to skim another paragraph. _That line about a witch's powers being based on emotion makes much more sense, looking at it this way…intent changes based on state of mind and emotional stability, and intent _is_ the basis of any magic…_

"Ah-ha!" Piper's triumphant exclamation startled them all, and Wyatt whimpered. "Sorry, sweetie," she soothed him, looking apologetic. "Mommy didn't mean to scare you. It's okay; it's okay…" Reaching down, she began to rub the baby's back through the fabric of the carrier, holding the book she'd been looking through in her free hand. "As I was saying," she said with a grin, "I think I've got it—'Marriage of Powers.'" She slid the volume across the table to Phoebe. "Here, look."

Phoebe read the pages her sister had indicated, then looked up with a half-smile. "This is the kind of thing that could only happen to us," she said dryly. "We didn't even cast it on purpose…"

He took the book from her unresisting hands and read the pertinent passage himself. "It's an older spell," he said when he finished. "I couldn't date it with any accuracy, but according to the history written here, the practice was for witch families to intermarry, and then for this spell to be used so the husband and wife could share each other's powers—besides the protective benefits, it probably would've also supplemented a dowry or bride-price."

"But it didn't take all that often," Phoebe added, picking up his explanation, "because all the spell does is put both partner's powers into contact—there has to be a deeper emotional connection if they're going to mesh, and if love happened in an arranged marriage, it was usually long after the spell had been cast."

Piper nodded slowly. "Okay, that makes sense," she said as she transferred Wyatt out of the carrier and into Leo's arms. "But if it's true, than why don't Leo and I have the same thing you and Cole do? The ritual did the same thing to us that it did to you."

"Think I know why," Paige said wryly. She ordered, "Book!" and one from the top of the pile disappeared in a flurry of orb-lights and reappeared in her hands. "See? If I were all witch, that'd be telekinesis. But since I'm half-Whitelighter, it kind of…hybridized with the orbing. If that's what witches' powers and Whitelighters' always do when they mix…"

A look of realization crossed Leo's face, followed closely by acute relief.

Cole could appreciate why: cross his power with Piper's, and it wasn't hard to imagine that orbing could have an effect like an exploding bomb. "So what you're saying," he said to Paige, "is that Phoebe's powers and mine could connect because they belong to the same…let's say, 'species', if not the same particular breed."

"It's a thought," she said with a shrug. "Either that, or it falls under the 'basic safety' clause you were talking about earlier. You're not made to be an empath, so you're not; basic extension of that is that Piper's not cut out to be a Whitelighter and Leo's not supposed to be a witch."

"Well, we learned that we really can't deal with one another's lifestyles anyway," Piper said, smiling fondly at the baby. "I can't say I'm not relieved—this thing with the Crone's going to be on my mind until she's vanquished, and between that, Wyatt and P3, I don't need the headache of mastering another set of powers." A short pause. "Does it say anything in there about limits? Drawbacks? There's no way something this convenient doesn't come with a catch."

Phoebe consulted the book, then nodded. "Just a little one," she added, no doubt sensing her sister's concern. "Like most of these bonds, the power-sharing comes with an energy cost if we do it over distance—it's not clear at exactly what distance that starts to apply, but the farther apart we are, the more it'll take."

"From which of you?" Leo asked with a frown, shifting Wyatt's weight to his other arm. "The partner accessing power, or the one giving it?"

"It looks like the total cost would be split between us, so neither of us would get hurt giving too much," Phoebe answered, closing the book and placing it with the others. "Even so…it's still something we'd have to be careful with."

"At least until we know exactly how it works," he agreed with a nod. The question of precisely what they could do with this bond was intriguing, and some part of his mind—the part forged by his upbringing and made to think always in terms of combat—was already running through possibilities. If, as he suspected, the spell worked by enabling energy transfer—

"But for now," Paige said, interrupting his train of thought, "at least we have the basic parameters, and that's what we really needed." She reached up to rub her eyes and stifled a yawn. "Can we maybe visit Magic Preschool some other day? I can't be the only one whose post-vanquish adrenaline is about to run out."

She wasn't, and it didn't take long for them to agree that returning home was the best thing they could do at the moment. The information they had was enough to reassure them all that the situation didn't require emergency attention.

Anyway, he thought as they returned the books to their shelves and made to return to the portal, the afternoon had been a productive one, and what they'd found out was sufficient to satiate his curiosity for a while. _Everything's all right, at least for now._

Still…he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something important…

_A/N: Yes, I _know_ I'm ridiculously late with this, but I hope the unprecedented long length makes up for that, at least in some measure. And I think you can all guess what's coming next—until then, please review! It'll make my day, and I'd also love to know you're still reading! (Again, long reviews—one paragraph and up—are especially wonderful, but short ones are great, too.)_


	22. Future Unfolding

Phoebe stared incredulously at the calendar she kept on her bedside table, flipping from March (just a few days off now) back to January. There was a little red dot on the lower corner of an early January date, but—no matter how hard she looked, as though she could will it to materialize—no such mark in February.

She'd realized two days ago that she was late, but she hadn't thought she was _this_ late._ Way too late for it to just be stress._ She sighed and returned the calendar to the bedside table, turning it facedown. "I should've been keeping better track of this," she said to herself, dropping heavily onto the edge of the bed. "But I was juggling so many other things—Cole, my sisters, my nephew, my Charmed duties, my new power, my career—and I just…" _Didn't think._

Not an excuse. Not now, and not for something this serious.

But it was a fact.

_Okay. First step, take the test. Everything else will work from there. _Rising, she located her purse next to the bureau and dug through it for the pregnancy test she'd bought on the way home from work the previous day. She'd meant to take it then, but one thing had led to another and somehow, she'd just never gotten around to—

No. That wasn't true, was it? She hadn't exactly been trying to find the time, because she didn't want confirmation of what she already knew: that she was pregnant, that the timing was anything but ideal, and that she didn't feel prepared to be a mother.

Padding into the bathroom, she shut the door behind her and switched on the light, then opened the little box in her hand. "Here goes nothing."

A moment later, she sat down on the edge of the bathtub, shivering as the chill of the porcelain seeped through her jeans, and glanced at her watch, holding the thin plastic strip between thumb and forefinger. _Thirty seconds to go…please, let me be wrong. It's too soon for this—we're still rebuilding with each other; we're not ready for the responsibility of a baby—_

She shook her head, as though to dislodge the troubling thoughts. There was no point in worrying until she knew for sure, one way or the other. But the waiting…she hated the waiting. _It's two minutes! How can it feel so damn long?_

The second hand ticked around the watch's face, number by number. _Not much longer…ten…nine…eight…seven…_

She took a deep, steadying breath and looked at the test, then at the diagrams on the instruction sheet, then back at the test. "Oh my God," she breathed.

Positive.

She'd expected this, she thought, but expecting and _knowing_ were two different things. This far along—just under a month—it was very unlikely that the test would be wrong.

She slid a hand beneath the fabric of her blouse and pressed her palm to her abdomen, still so deceptively flat. In the months to come, she knew, it would swell as round as Piper's had been as the little life inside—their daughter!—grew and developed.

She was going to have a baby. They were going to be _parents_.

So why wasn't she thrilled? she wondered, letting her hand fall back to her side. She should be, shouldn't she? She'd looked so happy in the premonition when she'd given Cole the news; had seemed positively beatific when she'd extended her arms to receive the baby…

But she felt no such bliss now. What she felt was overwhelmed and yes, a bit afraid. She wanted this baby—of course she wanted her!—but she was supposed to come later, was supposed to be _planned_.

_If you wanted a planned pregnancy, Phoebe,_ said the part of her mind that was usually critical and sometimes sounded like Prue, _then you shouldn't've gone and had unplanned, unprotected sex._

But she had, and she _was_ pregnant, and all of the perfect little fantasies she'd made of an uncomplicated happily-ever-after were going to have to change to accommodate reality. "I can deal with this," she reassured herself as she disposed of the test and washed her hands. "We can deal with this. This is sunshine and roses compared to last time around…"

But she couldn't forget the nightmare, the perversion of all their dreams. Couldn't forget the bitterness of the Seer's tonic on her lips, burning her throat; couldn't forget the heat of fire streaming from her hands, the foreign powers that had whispered so seductively of rage, of death and destruction and the horrible urge to kill…

No. That wouldn't happen this time, not when the child she carried was honestly theirs, free of any demonic taint. Not when Cole was himself, when he would put nothing before her welfare and their daughter's. Not when their love was real, and not simply a tool in the hands of a puppeteer.

So why, _why_ should she be afraid? Things wouldn't fall apart as they had before…

Sighing quietly, she moved into the bedroom and lay down on the bed, turning so the beam of early afternoon sunlight spilling through the window was at her back. "I'm not ready for this," she said into her pillow, muffling the words so the rest of the family wouldn't hear her, wouldn't come in and see her looking like something was so obviously wrong. "I'm not."

Her wish to be left alone, unfortunately, was foiled just minutes later, when she recognized Cole's footsteps approaching the bedroom. She'd made an excuse at breakfast to explain her need for privacy—something about having to answer a letter for the column—but it seemed he'd decided that he'd left her alone long enough.

That made sense: she wasn't such an adept liar as to flatter herself into believing that she'd really fooled any of them; and even if she were better at it, he was extraordinarily good at spotting lies (as lawyers and demons, never mind ex-demonic lawyers, generally were). And if she factored in the damage that falsehoods and misunderstandings had done to their relationship in the past…

She sat up quickly and tried to muster a genuine smile, but—judging by the concern she sensed as he entered the room—didn't quite manage it.

"Phoebe?" He moved to sit down beside her, setting the notebook he'd been holding on the nightstand. She recognized it as the general reference she and Piper had compiled for Paige two years previous—when had he found that? Last she'd seen it, it'd been stored among the rest of their miscellanea in the attic…

"I actually wanted to ask you about some things I'd read," he said conversationally, "but it looks like I should really be asking 'What's wrong?'"

She hadn't wanted to have this conversation like this. If she could just get him to let it go for a little while, so she'd have some time to wrap her mind around it first… "It's nothing—"

"'Nothing' wouldn't upset you so much," he said with a half-smile. "Hell, I've seen upper-level demons that don't rate this particular look…" Reaching forward, he tilted her chin up gently so their eyes met. "Come on. If there's one thing we've learned by now, it's that we need to talk when something's wrong."

When she didn't reply, he continued, more seriously, "If not for us, then do it for yourself—Phoebe, you're an empath now. If you start bottling up your emotions, you're going to really hurt yourself, possibly even in ways we can't fix if it gets bad enough."

She remembered—couldn't help remembering—what empathy had done to Prue, whose habit had been to do just that; how she'd become a sobbing wreck, shrinking back even from the comfort of her family because she simply couldn't cope… "What's wrong—it shouldn't be wrong," she said at last. "I should be happy, but all I am is scared, and it doesn't make any sense…"

"Feelings aren't about making sense," he said, laughing a little. "I fell in love when it was absolutely the most dangerous, least sane thing I could have come up with to do, remember?"

"Yes." She could feel that love now, could feel his worry for her, his desire to help her through this, whatever it was… "Okay." There was a short pause; then she took a deep breath to steady herself and blurted it out—"I'm pregnant"—before she could lose her nerve.

"Pregnant?" he echoed, as though to be sure he'd heard correctly. Surprise, a tinge of fast-growing awe, and more love, absolute and all-consuming. His hand came to rest on her abdomen, his expression almost reverent. "You're—we're having a baby?"

His joy, far from calming her, only made her feel worse. "See? That's the normal reaction to news like this!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "So why aren't I having it too?"

"I'm not the empath here, Phoebe," he pointed out, sobering a bit and withdrawing his hand. "I can't tell you why you're feeling what you're feeling." A short pause. "You said you were scared. Of what?"

"I wasn't expecting this," she confided quietly, holding his gaze. "It's not that I didn't want it eventually, but I don't feel ready for it now."

"Neither do I," he said with a shrug, as though this were no great concern. "But that's fine—you're not due for…what, eight more months?" He paused, thinking back and confirming to himself that she would be about a month along. "By then, we'll have had plenty of time to get used to the idea and we'll be prepared."

Thinking of it that way did help: all she really had to worry about for now was avoiding physical injury, scheduling prenatal visits with the OB-GYN and following the instructions she was given. Not that that would be completely simple, of course, but it was hardly the range of concerns that came with post-birth motherhood.

"And what if I'm a terrible mother?"

She sensed a note of incredulity. "How can you think you would be?" he countered. "Everything you do, you do because you know it's right, even if it doesn't work to your benefit—you understand love and moral values…how could any of those things be bad to pass on to a child?" He was quiet for a moment, then shook his head and said, half-joking but also half-seriously, "If anything, I'd worry about her having me for a father—all the things you grew up with, I just learned in the last couple years' crash-course."

"The point's that you _did_ learn it," she assured him, "not when or how fast…what you did in the past—no matter how bad it was—it doesn't mean that you're not a good person now."

He didn't say anything for a while, but she could feel the regrets he still harbored about the things he'd done. "Maybe not," he allowed, "but being good now still doesn't absolve me of everything I did before." His eyes looked past her, back into memories she could not see. "I killed countless Innocents without caring about anything but fulfilling orders and my own twisted ambitions."

"But that's _not_ you now," she insisted, cupping his cheek and breathing an inward sigh of relief when he focused on her again, reoriented by the touch. "Think of all the Innocents you've helped us save—all the times you've risked your life, your soul, to save ours—there's no higher expression of love or loyalty than being that selfless."

"We're getting off-topic here," he said, waving off the praise and reaching up to take her hand. "If it's not just general anxiety over the timing or lack of experience—what's got you so worked up?"

She was quiet for a long moment, sorting her jumbled feelings into something expressible in words. Underneath those smaller fears—what was the reason for them? Why should the timing of this pregnancy worry her so much? "Last time…everything looked like it was going perfectly," she said at last. "We were in love and engaged and happy…and next thing I knew, it all went straight to hell."

"So you're…what?" he asked. "Scared that what we have right now is so fragile any kind of change is going to ruin it?"

_Was_ that what she felt? "Not exactly," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, yeah, there's an irrational part of me that's terrified history will somehow repeat itself, but the rest…" A short silence. Finally, she admitted, "It scares me that this premonition's going out of sequence. When something changes, no matter how small, it can mean the whole outcome might be in danger of changing." Unconsciously, she let her free hand drop to her abdomen. "I can't handle losing you again, and I can't—I can't lose this baby like I did the last one."

She felt a flash of his pain—renewed guilt—almost at once at these last words, but he pushed it aside, leaving her in the comfort of his understanding. "You're not going to lose me, Phoebe," he said intently, drawing her close. "Or the baby. Everything we went through brought us to where we are now, and we're _meant_ to be here. Neither of us is going anywhere. Period."

"I know that intellectually," she said, "but there's just some stupid, deep-down part of me that can't…exactly believe it; that's expecting something to go wrong." She looked down and away from him, at the hand that rested over their daughter. "I should have more faith in us," she said softly. "I know you're not going to let anything get to you, and that there's no way in hell I'm letting anyone take this baby—"

"What happened?" he interrupted, bending a little to meet her eyes. "Between my being vanquished and my coming back? I assumed you'd miscarried, but when you say he was 'taken'…" He trailed off and into expectant silence.

"He was evil," she said quietly. "He tried to kill Paige twice and nearly killed me…but I don't know if he started out like that or if I poisoned him when I—" her voice broke.

"It wasn't the tonic." His voice was calm, steady, but she could feel that this hurt him as badly as it did her. "He was doomed even before he was conceived, no matter what you did or didn't do—anything that came from you or me was overruled by the Source." Now he was the one avoiding her eyes, and the guilt she'd sensed before had returned at full strength. "It went to a lot of trouble to nurture a predisposition to evil. The Dark wedding, and then more Dark magic so he'd be heir to the Source's powers…"

"You didn't have anything to do with that!" she said, a bit sharply so he'd know she meant it. "Cole, the part of you that _was_ you loved that baby. I could see it that day, remember? When you surprised me with flowers and balloons and stuffed animals at the penthouse…you were as happy as I'd ever seen you." She left the question unspoken—how had that been?—but her eyes asked it as clearly as any words.

"At least up until the coronation, when it came into full power, the Source was weaker when I felt love," he explained. "I had at least some control then, because my love for you and the baby together was…" A short pause, a bitter half-smile. "Phoebe," he repeated at last, "what happened?"

"The Seer took him," she said, voice low. "She did—I don't know, some ritual to transfer him into her body, and his power was too much for her to take. It vanquished her and the entire demonic High Council with her." _And serves them right._

He didn't look all that surprised. "I thought that was what she wanted," he said, half to himself. "To be the hand that rocked the cradle. With the Source out of the way…" Sighing, he returned his attention to her. "I can't say I'm sorry," he said, "because you'd have died trying to carry that child—if that's even the word—to term, and probably lost your sisters and your soul into the bargain."

"I know." Her voice was nearly a whisper. "But—"

"But nothing," he broke in, pressing a fingertip to her lips. "Yes, things should have been different—we both wish they could have been—but they weren't, and all we can really do now is move forward."

She pulled back from him a little, stung. "I can't just put it behind me and forget, Cole," she said, an edge in her tone. "Because there were a couple of weeks in there, before I realized just what I was carrying, when I thought of him as mine and yours and loved him as much as I do this baby!" She felt tears pricking her eyes and blinked them back. "And even after, I couldn't just say he was evil demonic spawn and not care—I wanted to, but I couldn't, because—"

"Because love doesn't just switch off when you want it to," he said gently, "even when the circumstances make you think it should."

She felt his arms close around her and let him draw her back in, comforted by the solid warmth of his body against hers. "I should thank God for that," she said, her voice half-laughing and half-choked, "or we'd've killed each other about a dozen times by now…"

Positioned as she was, facing him with her head on his shoulder, she sensed his smile rather than seeing it. "Maybe," he agreed, a hint of laughter in his own voice. "But all that aside…" He paused briefly, sobering, then continued, "Phoebe, whatever guilt you're carrying about your last pregnancy, you have to let it go. Making yourself suffer won't change the fact that it was beyond what either of us could do to save that child."

"How could you have been happy that day, then? If you knew—"

He shook his head. "I know now, in retrospect, but I wasn't certain then. And as long as I wasn't…"

"Swimming in the River Denial, huh?" she said knowingly. "Makes sense, I guess—you'd managed to shake the Source off a little, and you wanted…"

"To pretend it could last," he confirmed, releasing her. "That I'd managed to beat the Source, and that you and I could have marital bliss and a normal, healthy baby." More quietly, he added, "One of the most idiotic things I've ever done."

"As if I didn't play the same game for the same reasons?" she countered. "Pretending I could have a happy family as Queen of All Evil?" A deep sigh. "We both made mistakes. And you're right—all we can do is move on and not repeat them." _Even if part of me still wonders what might've been…_ "It'll be different this time."

He had to know she'd said that for her own benefit as much as his, but he just nodded. "It will," he agreed. "We made it through the worst, Phoebe. Nothing's going to split us up ever again, and nothing's going to hurt our baby."

She could feel his certainty, and it was as reassuring as any of his words. Still… "How d'you know that? I mean, the Crone threw me into a wall two days ago—I'm lucky I didn't lose her! Being pregnant doesn't exactly mix well with being Charmed."

Yes, Piper had gotten through her pregnancy without disaster, but Wyatt had rendered her—and therefore himself—invincible. It would be too much to hope her own unborn offspring, neither twice-blessed nor endowed with a Whitelighter's ability to heal, would be capable of the same trick.

"I know," he said simply, "because for a change, I saw something you didn't." Seeming to anticipate her question, he shook his head, half-smiling. "Regular seeing; not a premonition. The night Light Magic stripped my demonic powers and gave me the deflection—I asked what made me worth going to so much trouble for. And she showed me our daughter."

"All the way back—but you never said anything!" she said, perhaps a touch indignantly. "Why not?"

"I didn't tell you immediately after it happened," he said with a wry grin, "because you didn't trust me and I didn't want you to think I was making up stories to try to coerce you back into a relationship. And later on…" He shrugged. "With everything that's been going on, it's not like we've had time to sit down and talk."

She leaned back against the pillows, giving his sleeve a tug, and he took the tacit hint and reclined beside her. "We should've," she said, closing a hand around his and entwining their fingers. "We deserve time to ourselves every once in a while."

They drifted into comfortable silence for a minute or two, and she felt his free hand drift down to her abdomen, caressing gently. She closed her eyes with a contented sigh, enjoying his touch and his happiness in equal measure, letting them soothe her. When she opened them again, she looked up at him curiously and asked, "What's she look like?"

"She was probably six or seven in the image I saw," he said. "Dark brown hair; blue eyes." His tone was faintly reminiscent. "I couldn't place exactly which of us this and that came from, but she was beautiful—just like her mother."

"Flatterer," she said, but was unable to suppress a grin as she curled into his side. She felt better—her empathic power working in her favor, she knew, as feeling his feelings elevated her mood and helped her put her anxieties into some perspective and find a measure of peace.

They _had_ a future, and it would, by all accounts, be a bright one. She couldn't let past sorrows leech the joy from days to come—she deserved to enjoy this pregnancy; they deserved to enjoy all the little things that came with expecting a baby.

She wouldn't forget the should-have-been baby before; she never would. But neither would she let his memory tarnish her experiences with his sister.

"It's not flattery if it's true," he countered, wrapping his free arm around her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You're beautiful and wonderful and…we're going to have a baby."

She wasn't facing him, so she couldn't see it, but it was all too easy to picture the smile that went with that tone and that resurgence of euphoria. "Yeah," she said, feeling a smile of her own forming. "We are."

She could imagine the little girl she was carrying, with hair like hers (a shade or two darker, perhaps), eyes the image of Cole's and facial features that spoke of them both. She could almost hear a sweet little voice calling her 'Mommy.'

And that name, she decided, sounded very, very good.

_A/N: I've been looking forward to writing this scene for quite a while—Phoebe and Cole needed some time to themselves (as several of you were good enough to point out), and I've been dropping hints about this pregnancy since just after the conception… In any case, I hope I managed to strike the right balance between angst and fluff, and that this installment was worth the time you waited for it. Again, please indulge my insatiable hunger for feedback. (Long reviews of one paragraph or more are ideal; short ones are wonderful too!)_


	23. Wounds of the Past

He was going to be a father.

_He_ was going to be a _father_.

It was a mind-boggling thought—no less so, really, than it'd been the previous year, although he now had a much clearer idea of what having a baby actually meant.

Actually, when he thought about it, that was probably the problem. The responsibility of having a fragile little person entirely dependent on them was, frankly, going to be enormous.

He'd never really been responsible for another living thing before in his life. Oh, sure, there'd been a few missions when he'd been told to work with or keep an eye on another, less competent demon, but if that other demon fouled up and was vanquished, it hadn't been his problem. He certainly hadn't _cared_.

And later, after he'd fallen in love with Phoebe, acknowledged his soul—well, he had certain implicit responsibilities _to_ her and her family, but not _for_ them. Yes, occasionally they needed his help dealing with a more-serious-than-usual demonic crisis, but for the most part, they were more than capable of taking care of themselves. There was no dependency there.

With this baby, there would be. She would need him in an entirely different way than Phoebe did, and growing up, fundamental aspects of who she was would be influenced by him.

_There's an unsettling thought_. What the hell did he know about being a father? He was still mastering just being a good person!

He felt Phoebe shift, turning over to face him and scooting back a little to meet his eyes. Her gaze was concerned, and he knew that she was reading him, feeling as he felt.

"We've got similar issues, huh?" she said, a bit ruefully. "I can sense it…you're not scared, exactly, but you're not…" Her brow furrowed in concentration as she sorted through the complexity of what she perceived and found words. "You don't have past experience to give you any kind of context here, so you're off-balance. And that makes you nervous."

He nodded, noting for the umpteenth time how absolutely accurate her empathic sense was. "Out of curiosity, did you sense something that pointed to lack of past experience as the problem, or was that just because you know me that well?"

"A little of both," she said, shrugging. "I can tell the difference between your feeling something now and your remembering something you felt a long time ago. There's a kind of urgency with present feelings. With past ones, you're more detached."

He must have looked a but surprised, because she half-smiled and admitted, "You're easier to read when you're introspective. With all your focus turned inward…well, however you feel when you're thinking just radiates out."

And of course, she would know by now the sort of emotions thinking of his past usually evoked. "It would, I guess. And I do have a habit of looking at my past for perspective—well, parts of it."

She nodded faintly. "I know. There're places even in your own head you don't like to go—when you look back, I think it's usually at facts, like when you're studying witchcraft basics. I get the detached feeling then, but not the regrets or the guilt." A brief pause. "You carry a lot of pain around with you, Cole. Most of the time you keep it buried, but it's there." Her eyes searched his face, questioning. "Would it help to talk about it?"

"No. Not with this," he said, shaking his head. "It won't bring back the Innocents I killed, and it won't stop the guilt. It's just part of what I have to deal with, now that I know right from wrong and care about the difference." He sighed and added, forcing himself to hold her gaze, "Just because I'm good now…it doesn't change the fact that I _was_ evil once and that I understand how it works. All the demons we deal with…I hate what they do, but that means that I also have to hate my own past."

A long silence. "I can't say I really understand," she said at last, "because I haven't gone through what you have. Just…if you ever do want to get something off your chest, I'll be here to listen, and I promise I won't judge." Taking the gratitude she must have sensed as a tacit reply, she changed the subject. "So, about the baby…I got from some of what you said before that you're worried about not being a good role model?"

"My father was murdered when I was three," he said simply, "and my mother gave me into Raynor's 'care' soon afterward. Obviously, neither of them taught me anything about how to be a parent, so I'm working from a blank." A slight smile. "And you know how much I hate to have to do that."

She nodded, returning his smile in kind. "Yeah. You never work that way if you can help it." Reaching down, she took the hand that had been resting on her abdomen a moment ago and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "All expectant parents start out feeling like they don't know anything—and I'm not trying to dismiss what you're saying, because you're right that you don't exactly have a typical background—but you _are_ a good person, Cole. And you'll make a good father because of it."

He wished he could share her faith in that respect. "You really believe that?"

"Yes."

There was only certainty in her tone, and searching her face, he could see the sincerity there.

"The most important part of being a parent is loving your child," she said simply, her free hand bridging the distance between them to cup the side of his face. "And we both know you do, so much, no matter what worries you have. Ultimately, that's all that really matters."

Such a change, he reflected, from just a few short weeks ago, when she had come to him in the Wasteland convinced that 'love wasn't enough.' But it had been, after all, hadn't it? He'd been right.

So why should he second-guess himself now? "It is," he agreed. Glancing down at their joined hands, he noticed the glint of the diamond set in her engagement ring. "And speaking of," he continued, remembering a small detail they'd thus far overlooked, "we should start making some definite plans about the handfasting ceremony."

"It shouldn't be that hard to put together," she said, looking pensive. "We already have practically everything we need…we'll have to wait a little while, though, because I know Piper mentioned something the other day about Wyatt's Wiccaning needing to be soon, and I don't want to upstage that."

He knew what a Wiccaning was—a kind of blessing/welcoming ceremony preformed for new babies—but he'd never seen one firsthand. "Did she say anything about when 'soon' was supposed to be?"

"If she did," Phoebe admitted, "I wasn't paying enough attention to remember—I was kind of distracted at the time, you know, wondering whether I really was preg—"

Just then, she was interrupted by Piper's voice, carrying up from downstairs. "Phoebe? If you're done with whatever you were working on, could you do me a big favor and put Wyatt in the red onesie and pants and the blue sweater while I summon Grams?"

Ah. So 'soon' had apparently meant 'now.' But while a little more warning would have been appreciated, this kind of thing didn't seem to require much advance preparation—which was fortunate, because his mind was most definitely on other matters.

"Sure!" Phoebe called back. Then, sighing, she returned her attention to him and asked, "Want to help me get him dressed? I can do it myself, but he's very squirmy and it'll be faster with a second set of hands."

He'd seen her dress the baby before, and knew perfectly well she hardly needed his help—she was just hoping some involvement with Wyatt would help ease his anxieties about fatherhood.

Who knew? Maybe it would—she seemed comfortable enough with him that it was difficult to believe she had doubts about her maternal capabilities. "All right," he agreed, and rose to follow her to the nursery.

"Hi!" she cooed at Wyatt, lifting him out of his crib and into her arms. "Who's his auntie's sweet boy?" Her voice was pitched high, the intonation of the words exaggerated. "Who's the best little boy in the whole wide world?"

He really would have to ask her why the entire family insisted on speaking to Wyatt like that. How was he ever supposed to learn proper speech if all he ever heard was that saccharine babbling?

"Hand me his onesie?" Phoebe asked him as she carried the baby to the changing table and checked his diaper. Judging by her look of undisguised relief, he was dry. "It's on the seat of the rocker there."

Locating the garment in a glance, he complied, moving to stand beside her and watching as she unsnapped the blue sleeper Wyatt had been wearing. His face crumpled and he made a fussy noise.

"Shh, sweetie," Phoebe soothed, capably removing the sleeper and beginning to maneuver him—not without some difficulty—into the onesie. "I know you don't like the cold, but we're going to get you into a nice, handsome, warm outfit in just a minute, okay?" _Snap. Snap. Snap._ With the onesie fastened, she reached for the little pair of pants and handed them to him. "Hold those open so I can lower him in?"

A moment and some gentle guidance of his legs later, Wyatt was wearing his pants and returned to the changing table, both of which he apparently found agreeable, because the fussing stopped. Cole made to step back, surprised when Phoebe draped a tiny sweater over his arm. "You put him in that while I get his socks and shoes," she directed. "It's easy—stretch the opening a little, then just take his hand and kind of guide it into the sleeve, then pull through gently."

"But—"

"It's good practice," she said matter-of-factly, and turned away from him to look through the bureau drawers. "And Piper will freak if he's not dressed for the occasion when Grams gets here."

Points taken. "Okay," he said to Wyatt, laying the open sweater down on the changing table and placing him on it before taking a diminutive hand carefully between thumb and forefinger. "Sleeve here…and arm here…and then this goes like this and…through." Not bad, if he did say so himself. "And now the other arm…" He could feel Phoebe's approving gaze on him as he finished helping the baby into his sweater and buttoned it. "And finished."

"See?" She moved into his line of sight, holding a pair of socks and small white shoes. "Perfect." She gave him a smile, then returned her attention to Wyatt, speaking in the talking-to-baby voice. "One sock, and two socks…and your itsy-bitsy shoes—oh, you look so _cute_! Yes, you do!" Straightening up, she lifted Wyatt and held him so his head rested against her shoulder, then led the way downstairs.

Paige, Piper and Leo were already present, and a temporarily corporeal Penelope Halliwell was standing just outside a pentagram marked with votive candles. Hearing them, she turned, a wide, delighted smile spreading across her face when she saw Wyatt. "Oh!"

"Grams," Piper said proudly, taking Wyatt from Phoebe and passing him into her grandmother's arms, "this is my son, Wyatt."

The smile died as delight gave way in an instant to poorly concealed dismay. "Son? But we—Halliwells simply don't _have_—" Then, perhaps realizing she wasn't exactly being tactful, she caught herself and amended, "Well, we've always had…girls." Gently, she extricated her necklace from Wyatt's grasp and returned him to his mother.

"And now we have a boy," Piper said brightly, either failing to notice the older woman's disappointment or choosing to dismiss it. Leo, if his frown were any indication, was less forgiving.

"Yes." Mrs. Halliwell sounded far, far less than enthusiastic. "Well. Anyway, we have a lot of work to do before I summon the matriarchs for the Wiccaning. Potions to brew, demons to vanquish—zombies, rigors, creepers—"

"None of them are powerful enough to breach the wards around the manor, Mrs. Halliwell," he broke in, unnerved at the idea of a pregnant Phoebe hunting demons. "So unless you know of an upper-level demonic threat—"

"The Necromancer," she said at once, addressing the words to Piper as though he were slightly beneath her notice. "He attacked your mother's Wiccaning, and we can't take any chances of his disrupting Wyatt's."

_Dammit!_ He should've known she wouldn't concede the issue easily. No one in this family ever did. "The Necromancer was banished sixty years ago," he said coolly, taking a step to one side to accidentally-on-purpose obstruct the path upstairs. "You did it yourself, if I remember correctly." A humorless laugh. "Not a minor coup. It created a power vacuum that took weeks to fill."

She gave a very slight, satisfied smile. "And you'd know, wouldn't you?" Choosing not to wait for an answer, she returned her attention to Piper. "He has his facts straight, but that—that _demon's_ had more than enough time to fight his way back to this plane. He's nothing if not confident."

Upper-level demons tended to be, he thought. And those that chose to clash with a member of the Halliwell line doubly so. "We haven't spread the news of this Wiccaning throughout the magical community," he said reasonably, "so the chances are slim to none that he knows it's going on. He won't attack if he's not aware of a target."

Surely she would have to admit the logic in that.

"He has his spies, I'm sure," she said grimly, moving toward the stairs and motioning for Piper to follow. "And nothing's more important than protecting the matriarchs—"

"Which the wards will do," Piper interrupted, not moving except to shift Wyatt's weight to her other arm. "Grams…Cole has a point. We'd be stupid going after an upper-level demon unprovoked."

"Weren't you watching or whatever when those wards went up?" Paige asked. "A definite ten on raw power—even if this Necromancer guy was a big deal once upon a time, I seriously doubt he's going to be up for busting through them after dragging himself back out of the Spirit Realm, and that's _if_ he even managed to do it." She moved to stand at Piper's side, reaching to caress Wyatt's cheek with a fingertip. "I say we get this Wiccaning on the road while the getting's good and kick demonic ass later."

"The wards _are_ powerful, but they hardly mean the manor's demon-proof," Mrs. Halliwell said archly, fixing her granddaughters with a piercing look. "Didn't you have the Crone in here a few days ago? Hmm?"

_She _would_ have to bring that up, wouldn't she? _"The Crone and the Necromancer aren't even on the same scale power-wise," he argued. "She's centuries older and stronger—I'm not saying he's a neophyte, but he won't have access to the amount of life-force he'd need to become strong enough to be a real threat—"

"Both of you, take it easy!" Phoebe interjected, stepping between them with hands upraised in a tacit request for ceasefire. "Cole, you're right, so you can stop pressing the point. And Grams, I can tell the issues you have with this demon are personal, so stop trying to drag us into your vendetta, okay?"

Mrs. Halliwell looked annoyed. "It is _not_ a—"

"I'm empathic," Phoebe said with a shrug, half-smiling. "And you have issues—I'm even familiar with these particular issues—but that doesn't mean I want to run out and help you vanquish this demon. We both know he's not the problem here."

He shot her a questioning look, and she gave one in return that meant they'd talk later.

Piper raised an eyebrow. "You're sure about that?" she asked Phoebe.

Phoebe nodded.

"Okay. And for whatever reason, you," she said to her grandmother, "absolutely won't perform the Wiccaning unless we do this vanquish first?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Obviously. So…are we looking at Power of Three, or just your basic potion?"

"Piper…are you sure this is such a good idea?" Leo's tone was mild, but it was easy to see the disapproval in his face. "Because I don't think—as your husband or your Whitelighter—that going after this demon is the best thing to—"

"We vanquish this demon," she broke in matter-of-factly, "our son will have his Wiccaning and there will be one less upper-level demon around to come after us later. I don't see anything wrong with that."

There had to be more significance to Wiccanings than he knew, if she were willing to take on an unnecessary vanquish to ensure her son would have one. But foolish risks were foolish risks, no matter what the motivation. "What happened to, 'we'd be stupid going after an upper-level demon unprovoked?' As it is, the risk of an attack is negligible—we go in there, the risk goes up. Exponentially." Seeing she intended to do it nonetheless, he tried an _ad hominem_ appeal to maternal instinct. "The Crone's law won't be in effect this soon, Piper. You do not want to bring an attack here."

"And neither do we," Paige put in, taking Wyatt from her sister and moving to stand in front of Mrs. Halliwell. "Look, as a general policy, I try not to agree with him too often, but in this case, Grams, he's right. Whatever issues you have—and if Phoebe says you have them, stop denying it; you do—get over them."

"It's not that simple, dear." Mrs. Hallwell's expression was half-indulgent, half-pitying, as though to say, _you have no idea what you're asking me to do._ Then, to Piper, "We can talk while we brew the vanquishing potion, don't you think?"

Piper gave him a sharp look, and he suppressed a sigh and moved aside to let her grandmother mount the stairs. _Fine. Ignore everyone's good advice and go right ahead._

"For the record," Phoebe said in a low voice as Piper passed her, "I want to say I'm against this."

Piper nodded, but made no answer, simply heading for the attic in brisk, measured steps. After a moment, Leo sighed and followed them, presumably hoping he could change his wife's mind.

When he heard the attic door close, he asked Phoebe, "Why is the Wiccaning so important that she's risking her neck to make sure Wyatt has one? She's usually the last one to advocate taking on a vanquish."

"She has good reasons this time," Phoebe said, dropping heavily onto the sofa and patting the place beside her in invitation. When he sat down, she explained, "Wiccaning is multipurpose ritual. It's partly a way for the family to welcome the baby, but it also presents him to the universe and the Powers, so they'll know and protect him, and it gives him the benefit of his ancestors' blessings."

"And that," Paige added, moving to sit on Phoebe's other side and placing Wyatt in her outstretched arms, "is basically like a witch's moral compass. The Wiccaning will initiate him into the family tradition of good magic and help ensure he stays on the right path."

All right, _that_ sounded sufficiently important to explain Piper's behavior. "So when they come back with the potion…"

"Then we're going," Phoebe confirmed, bouncing Wyatt gently on her knee. "Under protest, maybe, but still going, because he _has_ to have a Wiccaning, especially…"

"Especially?" he prompted, having picked up on her troubled look. "Especially what?"

"Especially since he was born in the manor," she said quietly. "Its being on the Nexus makes us stronger, but there's a catch—children born here can be instruments of great good or great evil. They…vacillate more easily." A short pause. "I was born here. That's why I…"

This time, he didn't press her, because he knew: that was why she'd always been terrified of turning Dark, why she'd feared their relationship might tempt her. And suddenly, Piper's vehement protestations against a homebirth made much more sense.

_Our daughter,_ he decided, _is being born in a hospital. I may not be demonic anymore, but I'm taking no chances._

Paige's voice, impatient, broke into his thoughts. "Okay. As long as we're doing this—what do you know about the Necromancer?"

"He's pretty much what he sounds like," Cole said with a shrug. "Upper-level demon—or the ghost of a demon, really, since he was banished—with dominion over the dead. He's not interested in ruling them, though; what he wants is to drain the power from their spirits so he can live. It doesn't last long—strictly a temporary fix."

"Why does he bother?" Paige asked. "It sounds like a lot of trouble with very little payoff…you'd think power over the dead would be enough."

"Not for him," he said, shaking his head. "He's a hedonist—after the physical pleasures of life. That means he really doesn't care much about typical demonic politics." A wry grin. "Why should he? Before your grandmother, no one dared to mess with him."

Paige turned to Phoebe. "What exactly did this demon do to her?" she asked. "Because whatever it was, it must've been _bad_ if she wants to re-vanquish him after sixty years."

What _did_ cause wounds that deep? He remembered vague rumors of the Necromancer's planning to attack a Halliwell Wiccaning, and the general consensus that he had to be crazy to try it…but his banishment hadn't occurred until weeks after those rumors had begun to circulate…

"He…loved her," Phoebe said at last, sounding a little disbelieving. "Or at least I think he must have, since she still has buried feelings for him…" She laughed a little. "Who knew? I guess forbidden relationships really do run in the family."

Probably not as much as she thought—he was certain that Mrs. Halliwell had terminated the relationship as soon as she discovered her lover's true nature. She didn't seem like the type to take faith over reason.

"Grams fell for a demon?" Paige said, making a disgusted face. "I thought she had more sense than that—"

"Hey!" Phoebe broke in, indignant. Wyatt looked startled at the noise, and she murmured an apology and lowered her voice. "Remember who you're talking to? And who she's in love with?"

"Of course I do," Paige said, waving a dismissive hand, "but that doesn't count. Cole was at least half-human and wanted to be good—this Necromancer's a purebred demon and completely soulless."

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and he looked over his shoulder to see Piper, Leo and Mrs. Halliwell leaving the attic. Notably, the last was the only one who looked anything like satisfied. Piper's face was resolute—she _was_ going to get this done, one way or another—and Leo was trying and failing to retain his usual composed expression.

Understandable. If Phoebe were in her sister's place, he wouldn't look very pleased himself.

Actually, speaking of Phoebe…he caught her eye and tilted his head in the direction of the kitchen.

She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded, returned Wyatt to Paige, and rose to follow him. Once they were out of earshot, she said matter-of-factly, "You don't want me to go on this vanquish."

There was no point in denying that. "They shouldn't be going after this demon in the first place, but if they insist on it, they don't need the whole Power of Three to do this." A brief pause. "I'm not going to stop you from doing your job if there's an Innocent to save, Phoebe. But this isn't about an Innocent—this is about your grandmother's personal prejudices."

She was silent for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Okay. This time—_just_ this time—I'll stay back if they don't need me. But we're going to have to talk about this, because I don't take all these risks just for kicks, you know? Next time, it's probably going to be someone's life on the line, and then I _have_ to be there, and you're not going to like it any better than you like it now."

"No," he admitted. "I'm not. And it's not that I don't think you can take care of yourself—I know you can—but your power is passive, and that means that you have to do your fighting hand-to-hand. Most of the hits you take from that aren't serious, but—"

"They'd be serious to her," she finished quietly, one hand falling to rest protectively over her abdomen. "I know. Just because I saw her born and you saw her grown up a little doesn't mean I want to tempt fate—but I can't ask for a maternity leave from my destiny, Cole, and that means I can't avoid putting either of us in harm's way."

His reply was cut off by Paige's call from the living room. "Phoebe? Cole? If you're done in there, the vanquishing potion's in vials and we're set to go!"

They moved out of the kitchen, and Phoebe sat down beside Leo on the sofa, reaching over to place a fingertip in Wyatt's curious hand.

"Aren't you coming?" Piper asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It looks like you have it all under control," she said simply. "And I'd really rather not watch Grams vanquish her demonic ex if I don't have to. It's kind of…emotionally loaded territory."

"Sorry," Piper said, her expression sympathetic. "I didn't think about—her _what_?" Sympathy changed to surprise, then shock, and she wheeled to face her grandmother.

"A mistake," Mrs. Halliwell said flatly, cutting off any further inquiries. "I didn't know what he was at the time, and when I found out, I banished him." She frowned when he moved to stand beside Piper. "You're coming?"

He chose to ignore the blatant disapproval in her tone. "Yes. I'd rather we not have to vanquish the Necromancer _again_ before the next Wiccaning, so I thought I'd make sure he didn't have an escape route from the spiritual plane lying around." _If you want something done right, after all…_

Mrs. Halliwell turned to Phoebe with a look of keen interest. "Next Wiccaning?"

"Didn't you have a demon you wanted to vanquish?" Phoebe asked. "Because it sounded awfully important to you a minute ago…"

He could tell she really wanted to press Phoebe for details—namely 'when', 'whose baby' and 'what gender is it'—but she also wanted the Necromancer vanquished, and after a moment, that won out.

They took Paige's hands, and she orbed them from the manor.

_A/N: I'd meant to put this chapter on hold until after my finals were done, but I ended up cheating on my own hiatus…unfortunately, nothing gets the Muse in gear like my having other priorities I really should be putting first (like those damned, damned, _damned_ final papers). In any case, I'm going to be cramming a ridiculous amount of work into this week, so I'd really appreciate some reviews to cheer me up! (As usual, I love long—one paragraph or more—reviews best, but short ones are also wonderful!)_


	24. Acceptance and Welcoming

It wasn't long after the last glittering orb-lights vanished that she began to feel misgivings. Oh, she knew they were capable of looking out for themselves, but that didn't mean she didn't worry like—well, like hell every time they went down there, and the fact that she couldn't watch their backs herself only made it worse.

True, there was only so much she could have done—she didn't have the firepower her sisters did—but her presence would have made the Power of Three available to them in case of emergency. If only she could have gone along, so she wouldn't have to wait and wonder and fear—

But she knew why she hadn't. Cole was right: every vanquish she participated in was a potential threat to the baby. And she could not, _would_ not endanger her daughter if it could be avoided.

Still, even in such a simple undertaking as this, there were so many things that could go wrong, and all her resolve couldn't stop the dark possibilities from crowding into her head. Leo couldn't hear them calling—not from the Underworld—and Paige hadn't even begun to master healing—

_But she can orb,_ Phoebe reminded herself. _If things get that bad, she'll get them all out._ And the chances of real trouble were slim—it was just one demon they were dealing with, easily vanquished with a potion, and any one of them could handle that, never mind all four.

And she'd know, wouldn't she, if something did go wrong? Cole had been in the Underworld the first time she'd sensed him in trouble…so maybe she could sense him now, despite the distance. If she couldn't be there, at least she could get some idea of what was going on. It was just _not knowing_ that was feeding her fears…

Searching out the now-familiar warmth within where his power joined hers, she willed her empathy across the gold-and-silver cord she knew was between them.

Focus. Not hers, but missing the subtler nuances that should have been there—perhaps distance-sensing only picked up the most intense emotions, or she hadn't honed the ability enough to perceive the detail she could close up. But detail didn't matter now; it was enough to be certain that he wasn't in pain or afraid. And if he wasn't, she could assume her sisters were also safe.

Well, as safe as witches in the Underworld could reasonably be, anyway—

She started, her reverie broken as she felt the warm weight of Wyatt's small body being passed into her arms. "Leo?" She could sense her brother-in-law's anxiety, now that her focus was no longer turned inward, and wondered absently if this were how he felt every time they went out on a vanquish. "What are you doing?"

"I thought I should orb down there, so I'd be available in case—"

"You don't have to," she broke in, offering a half-smile. "I can sort of sense Cole, even from this distance—the detail's not what it would normally be, but it's enough to tell he's okay. And if he is, so are Paige and Piper." Sighing, she cuddled Wyatt close, breathing in her nephew's sweet new-baby scent—like milk and baby powder and something else she could never quite define. "Not being there with them is driving me crazy," she confided quietly. "I mean, I'm usually right there in the thick of every vanquish, and now…"

"And now that you're expecting, you can't be."

The surprise on her face must have been comical, because he laughed. "Don't worry; you didn't give yourself away. But Cole would only have been against the vanquish because he wanted to protect you, and your being pregnant is the only reason I can think of that you'd be especially vulnerable."

She nodded assent. "I took the test this morning…and I couldn't have _picked_ a worse time to get pregnant…there're still a billion demons out there after us, and I have a horrible feeling that the Crone's just the tip of a bigger iceberg…"

"There's never going to be a perfect time," Leo said simply. "Evil will still exist, no matter how many demons you vanquish. But you can't let that stop you from living your life and raising your family." A gentle smile. "You deserve this, Phoebe—you both do. So just…take whatever precautions you have to and enjoy it as much as you can."

She returned Wyatt to his father's arms and leaned back against the sofa cushions, one hand falling to rest over her belly. "Easy for you to say," she muttered. "Piper was invincible while she was pregnant—"

"And the force field generation that made her that way isn't so different from Cole's deflection," Leo countered, "which _is_ available to you, as soon as you learn to use it."

She hadn't made much progress in that direction, but it wasn't like she'd really been trying—actually, neither of them had attempted any serious exploration of their bond's ramifications since they'd discovered it three days before.

And in the state she was in, mastering his power should have been her first priority. Her life and their baby's might depend on it. _I will,_ she promised herself. _As soon as I can._

She knew what his trigger was; all she had to do was find it in herself—and even if that took time, the mimicry she'd already learned would be sufficient until then. "Thanks for the advice, Leo," she said quietly. Then, "Can you please not tell Piper and Paige? Cole and I will, as soon as the whole Wiccaning issue blows over, but until then I kind of want to keep it under wraps."

"Of course," Leo agreed, then added wryly, "At least you won't have to go through the same issues with your baby's Wiccaning as Piper and I have to deal with now. Penny'll be over the moon when she finds out you're having a girl." A brief pause, then a laugh. "Which means Cole has me beat for the title of favorite grandson-in-law, demonic background or not."

Phoebe's grin died on her face as she considered the ramifications that background might have on their daughter. Cole was a witch now, yes, but how deep did that go? Surely even the strongest magic wouldn't have erased all traces of his mother from his genes… "Leo…speaking of that…is there a chance that the baby—I mean, I know if it's there, it'd only be a quarter of her makeup, and we'd raise her to be good and control it—but I can't handle demonic powers while I'm carrying her."

True, being able to throw energy balls would be a handy thing in a combat situation, but she wasn't fooled: powers like that came with a lure she couldn't face again. Not after what had happened…

"She doesn't have demonic powers," Leo said with certainty, shaking his head. "First of all, you'd be violently sick by now if she did, like you were with your last pregnancy—and second, I don't think Light Magic would leave that kind of loose end. Cole chose good—why allow the possibility of your daughter facing the same problems he did?"

When she was silent, unwilling to accept an easy answer, he advised, "If you're that worried about it, then talk to Cole. He would know more about his original biology and whatever was done to change it than I do."

Fine. She would still talk to Cole when he got home…_after_ as they managed to get Grams to perform Wyatt's Wiccaning, which would take some time and possibly a small miracle.

A few minutes passed in silence, unbroken except for the soft noise of Wyatt's sucking on the pacifier Leo retrieved from the bassinet. She was about to speak again when the familiar cascade of orb-lights materialized, dispersing a moment later to reveal both her sisters, Cole and Grams, who had a triumphant smile on her face. Except for the acrid scent of smoke clinging to their clothes, they seemed unharmed: she couldn't feel any injuries. "Everything go okay?" she asked, just be sure. "You were gone longer than I thought you'd be."

"We vanquished the Necromancer no problem," Piper explained, moving to Leo's side and taking Wyatt from him, "but it took awhile for his minion to get back from…wherever."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "Wait a second, his minion? That wasn't in the game plan, was it?"

"No," Cole answered, sitting down on the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "but he seemed to be expecting company when we orbed in, and there were…articles lying around that could've been used to resurrect him. Better that we waited to vanquish the minion than to have to go after the Necromancer again in half an hour."

Paige nodded. "Not something we thought of, but we didn't need potions—the minion was this sniveling lower-level guy. Piper blew him up like _that_," she finished, snapping her fingers. "Anyway, we should be about ready for the Wiccaning now, right, Grams?"

Grams looked uncomfortable, and Phoebe could sense, beneath the immediate exhilaration of the vanquish, deep anxiety—about what she'd just done, and about what she was being asked to do. "Can I just have a second here?" she broke in, shrugging off Cole's arm and rising. "Grams? We need to talk."

"Dear—"

"Don't 'dear' me," Phoebe interrupted, striding forward to stand in front of her grandmother. "You have big issues, and they're feeding into big prejudices, and you're just _letting_ them!" Taking a deep breath, she made herself calm down. "Please. You think you're protecting your family, but you're hurting us. Just because Wyatt is a boy, it doesn't mean there's anything wrong with—"

"We've never had a male witch in the family!" Grams snapped. "In three centuries, not a single one! It's against tradition, against destiny!" Then, in a more subdued tone, "And Piper, didn't you see a daughter in your future?"

Piper, holding Wyatt against her body with one arm, placed her free hand on her hip, her eyes flashing and her voice tight with restrained anger. "In that future, Leo and I were divorced, Prue was alive, Phoebe was executed and San Francisco was crawling with witch-hunting zealots! There are _no_ absolutes, Grams. And just because I expected to have a daughter—that doesn't mean I don't love my son!" More quietly, "_Your_ great-grandson, and part of this family. Are you honestly going to deny him his ancestral blessing just because he happens to be a boy? He didn't do it to spite you!"

"He won't be an innocent baby forever, Piper," Grams said matter-of-factly. "He'll be a man, someday, and no man is fit to lead this family or to be trusted with magic! They're weak, and the power will only corrupt—"

"_Shut up."_ Cole's voice, cold and deliberate. She'd felt both men's tempers flare, but of course Leo wasn't going to be the one to say what was on everyone's mind. As a rule, he didn't do confrontation.

Cole, though…he'd been a lawyer. That took a disposition that _thrived_ on confrontation. And given the way Grams had been acting, well, she was surprised he'd held it together this long.

"Not trusting him because he's going to be powerful?" She heard him get to his feet, and he moved to stand beside her. "I'd expect to hear that kind of thing from demons," he continued, his voice level. "But you're a good witch: what's your excuse?"

She opened her mouth, wondering whether she should break in, but decided against it. Maybe the shock value of being compared to a demon would get through where rational argument hadn't.

But Cole didn't say anything else—_not that he needs to_, she thought, taking in the mildly shocked look on her grandmother's face. _He made his point._ "Grams…please," she said quietly, before the older witch could retort. "Wyatt deserves to have his Wiccaning. Don't refuse to do it just because you're bitter over love affairs gone wrong."

"This is not about—"

"Isn't it?" she countered, raising an eyebrow. "Grams, I _know_ what you're feeling. And what you're feeling points to the root of this whole thing being your bitterness and your regrets. You gave up on love and decided that everyone with a Y chromosome was scum, because then you had someone to blame—a nice big group, even—and you could be angry instead of hurt."

Grams' eyes were stormy, and if she didn't know that good witches were Not Allowed to use their powers against one another, she would fear being telekinetically flung across the room. "How dare you—!"

"Because I know where you're coming from!" she interrupted, matching the volume of her grandmother's voice. "You think I didn't go through the same thing when we had to vanquish Cole along with the Source? It ripped me up inside, and the easiest thing for me to do was get angry, because then I didn't have to deal with the pain or the reality that my own actions had caused a lot of it.

"And when he came back, I hurt him with that anger, because making him hurt was easier than coping with and admitting my own mistakes." She held Grams' eyes. "That's what you're doing right now with Piper and Leo, and would be doing with Wyatt if he were old enough to understand why you don't want to hold him. So fix the damage, Grams. Now, before it gets to be so bad that you can't."

A long, tense silence. Then, finally, Grams said quietly, "There's nothing wrong with your son, Piper, and I apologize. I was wrong to let my distrust hurt my family." A brief pause; a sigh. "You're right," she said to Phoebe, "I've been very bitter. I just didn't realize until now how much it was affecting my—afterlife," she finished with a wry grin. Then, sobering, she shot Cole a sharp look. "And _you_…have a lot of spine and a very big mouth."

She felt Cole's amusement and suppressed a grin at the backhanded compliment. "Be nice, Grams," she said. "Please. We've had enough arguing for one day."

"Oh, that was nice," Grams assured her, waving a dismissive hand. "If I weren't being nice, he'd have bruises." She didn't wait for a response before returning her attention to Piper. "You wanted his Wiccaning done today, didn't you?"

Mixed relief and gratitude from both Piper and Leo. "Yeah," she said, relaxing visibly as she shifted Wyatt to her other arm. "Attic?"

"Of course," Grams said with a nod, already mounting the stairs. "Quickly, if you don't mind—the setup for this takes a little while, and I don't have all day to linger down here."

She felt a note of uncertainty from Cole and looked over at him. "Question?"

"How does this work?" he asked. "Ritual setup aside—are we all going to be involved, or just Piper and Leo, or…?"

"Wiccaning is elaborate," she said, half-smiling, "but most of it is the High Priestess' show. All you have to do is watch, enjoy the moment, and join in on the 'so mote it be' part."

Upstairs, Grams packed away the potions supplies that had been on the worktable, returning bundles of herbs to their respective jars and, with an almost careless wave of one hand, the jars to the shelves. "It would be ridiculous to keep a full altar setup up here, " she said, motioning a trunk open and beginning to look through the contents, "with all the demons that come through, but it adds onto preparation time when we actually need one. Let's see…do you have an athame somewhere that you haven't used to vanquish anything?"

Piper shrugged. "I don't know…maybe the one in the kitchen drawer; we use that for potion ingredients sometimes." Turning to Phoebe, she asked, "D'you remember killing anything with it?"

"No, but all the vanquishes kind of start to run together after a while," she said ruefully, "so I can't be really sure." Then, to Grams, "Why, is it important?"

"It's just the principle of the thing, I suppose," Grams replied, "but I prefer to keep my weapons separate from my ritual tools. Well, you can't have everything…the one from the kitchen should do the job."

"Okay." Paige extended one hand, palm up. "Athame from the kitchen!" It obediently materialized, and she set it down on the worktable beside the other items Grams was accumulating. "There you go."

"Thank you, dear," Grams said without turning around. Then, to Piper, "I only see white candles here. Did you move the colored ones?"

"We probably don't have colored ones," Piper said, shifting her weight back and forth as she rocked Wyatt gently. "We started buying white ones in bulk…what, two years ago? They work for anything, and they're cheaper."

"Ever the practical one, Piper," Grams said affectionately, shaking her head as she set four white candles on the table. "You're right, of course; the colored ones are mostly for atmosphere. All right…athame, censer, candles…I still need water in this bowl and salt in this one. Paige, could you just—"

"No!" Piper broke in, raising a staying hand. "Or weren't you watching that time I was baking cookies and she called the flour?"

"Honest mistake," Paige said sheepishly, looking down at the floor. "How was I supposed to know it would come without the bag? And I _did_ clean it up…after I finished sneezing…"

"Never mind," Phoebe said to Grams, picking up the bowls and turning toward the door. "I'll take care of it. You only need a couple of tablespoons of salt, right?" Passing Piper, she said quietly, "You'd better hope this doesn't take long. Little mister is sleepy, and you know how he gets when he misses a nap."

She didn't wait for a reply, but she could feel her sister's flash of alarm as she headed downstairs. It didn't take long to pour some salt into one bowl and fill the other at the sink (a little more than she should have, she guessed, because it was a pain keeping any from sloshing onto the floor on the way back upstairs), but by the time she returned, Grams had arranged everything the way she wanted it.

The worktable had been moved, paraphernalia and all, to stand beside the Book's lectern in the center of the room, and Piper, Leo, Cole and Paige were standing in a loose semicircle a short distance off. As she watched, Grams motioned four candles into place, marking the quarters.

"We're using a circle for this?" she asked as she set the bowls down on the table. She and Prue had done something similar before, during their little trip to the sixteen hundreds, but this looked more complicated than their apples-and-laurel-leaves construct.

"The matriarchs need sacred space to gather in, apparently," Piper said. Then, turning to Leo, "Here, do you want to take him for a while? My arms are getting tired."

Wyatt began to fuss as Piper transferred him into his father's arms, and Grams chuckled. "Getting an early start, isn't he?" she said, using the point of the athame to scoop several pinches of salt into the bowl of water. Then, at their questioning looks, she explained, "You all cried at some point during your Wiccanings—usually after I'd actually stared the ceremony, but not always. Prue started wailing before hers got started and didn't settle down until I was more than halfway through."

It was hard to picture the poised, sophisticated older sister she remembered as a screaming baby, but still… "She never was shy about speaking her mind," Phoebe said with a grin as she stepped back to stand beside Cole. Then, hopefully, "Is she going to be here?"

"The Elders would never hear the end of it if they hadn't agreed to let her be," Grams said, crossing the room to stand by the East candle with the bowl. Moving clockwise, she sprinkled drops of salt water to the floor, motioning it back to table when she reached her starting point. "The Wiccaning ritual is meant to include the blessing of the entire family, living and dead—they have no right to exclude her."

Phoebe could feel Piper's joy (along with a good deal of her own: it would be so good to see Prue again and tell her everything she'd missed!) and Paige's anticipation—surely she'd be anxious to see the sister she'd never met—

"But this isn't a social visit, girls," Grams cautioned, seeing their faces light up. "She'll be here for the Wiccaning only, just like the other matriarchs, and leave immediately afterward."

She didn't need to see Piper's face to know it'd fallen—her sister's rush of dismay spoke for itself—and she was disappointed, too. There would be no joyful reunion, no long conversations…but they'd get to see her. After all this time, that was something, at least.

"All right, everyone, places, please. Phoebe, you and Cole are fine where you are—Paige, can you just move in a little bit closer to Phoebe? Thank you—and Piper, I need you and Leo and Wyatt up here, next to the Book," Grams directed. "Good. Now…let's get started." Picking up the athame, she moved to stand before the candle designating the north quarter a chanted:

"_Powers of balance, powers of Earth  
Keepers of cycles of death and rebirth  
Join us today as our joy we express  
This child to welcome, this child to bless."_

They all felt the first stirrings of power as she finished, and Phoebe grinned when the candle glowed briefly green and ignited—she hadn't been expecting that to happen, but at least it was clear now why Grams hadn't lit the candles earlier. _One down; three to go,_ she thought, watching as her grandmother, now in her role as High Priestess and apparently starting to warm to what she was doing, walked from north to east, the athame pointed at the floor, and Phoebe was surprised to see a beam of silver-white light emanating from the blade, forming a quarter-circle.

"_Powers of knowledge, powers of Air  
Keepers of insight, bright, deep and rare  
Join us today as our joy we express  
This child to welcome, this child to bless."_

Another power surge as the candle glowed yellow and lit up, and she shivered slightly as the energy around them began to build. Wyatt squirmed in Leo's arms, and Piper leaned close to whisper something soothing, a slight, satisfied smile on her face. Phoebe could feel her sister's pride in her baby and wondered what it would be like in eight months' time, when she and Cole were standing in the parents' places as this was done for their daughter.

Grams made another quarter-turn, light following in her wake, then dropped into a third chant.

"_Powers of will, powers of Fire  
Keepers of change and keepers of desire  
Join us today as our joy we express  
This child to welcome, this child to bless."_

A flash of red; then another flame flared up and the power grew stronger, like a hum of electricity in the air, pressing in on them. The circle was nearly complete now; just one quarter left, and then…

Well, she wasn't sure, to be honest. The only circle she'd ever cast had been with Prue, on their little impromptu trip to the seventeenth century, and this made that look frankly amateur. Then again, it'd _worked_, which was all that had really counted at the time, no matter how ridiculous she'd felt chanting 'Knowledge and reverence' over a pair of laurel leaf-adorned apple halves.

The sound of Grams' voice broke into her thoughts, and she realized that the circle was three-quarters of the way closed and her grandmother was facing west now, speaking the final invocation.

"_Powers of Water and of intuition  
Keepers of emotion and heart's disposition  
Join us today as our joy we express  
This child to welcome, this child to bless."_

The final candle shone blue for an instant, then ignited, and Grams' smile was satisfied as she made the final steps from west back to north, completing the circle that surrounded them. There was no surge this time, though, and she shot Grams a questioning look.

The older witch's smile widened as she sent the athame back to its place on the table, and Phoebe recognized that particular smile as the one she'd always worn right before she'd pulled some surprise from up her sleeve.

She wasn't disappointed. Her hands now free, Grams made a 'get up' sort of motion, and the one-dimensional circle exploded upward with a tangible shock of power, curving into a dome that closed a few feet over their heads.

Her sisters looked as impressed as she was, and even Cole, who'd seen more and thus impressed less easily, wore a faintly approving smile: after all, the usual demon-exploding pyrotechnics were one thing, but most spells they did weren't this visibly striking.

"There," Grams said, striding purposefully to the Book and motioning for the pages to turn for a minute or two before stilling her hand. "Ah! Finally…'To Summon the Halliwell Matriarchs.' I haven't used this since your Wiccaning, Phoebe, but you'd think I'd've thought to mark the page…well, no matter."

Looking up from the Book, she cleared her throat, then chanted:

"_I call forth from space and time  
Matriarchs from the Halliwell line:  
Mothers, daughters, sisters, friends,  
Our family spirit without end  
To gather now in this sacred place  
And help us bring this child to grace."_

As Grams spoke, sparkling white lights began to appear within the circle, spiraling downward with hazy trails of slightly dimmer light extended behind them like the tails of comets. And as they watched, the lights coalesced one by one into ghostly human forms: some women their age, some Grams', and a few even older.

They were all dressed in the clothes of their time periods, and Phoebe could recognize simple dresses like the ones she and her sisters had worn on that long-ago Halloween, and other, more elaborate gowns from later on. She saw Melinda Warren near the front of the crowd and beamed at her favorite ancestor, giving her a slight wave.

"Who's that?" Cole asked her quietly.

"Melinda Warren," she answered, keeping her voice low. She felt mixed surprise and guilt as he realized this woman was the baby whose birth he'd tried to sabotage, two years and four centuries previous. "It's okay," she whispered.

He squeezed her hand, but made no answer as Grams took several steps forward, motioning Piper and Leo to stand beside her, and gently lifted Wyatt from Leo's arms before addressing the matriarchs. Phoebe listened with half an ear, searching the sea of translucent faces for her mother's and sister's.

"We are here today," Grams said, her voice slightly raised to carry across the room, "to bestow our blessings upon Wyatt Matthew Halliwell, son of Piper Halliwell and Leo Wyatt. Let us welcome this child, bearer of our legacy, into our circle."

This was apparently a cue, because Melinda Warren stepped forward, smiling down at Wyatt as she reached forward, holding one hand just above the crown of his head before bending low to whisper something Phoebe couldn't catch—presumably a blessing—into one tiny ear. Wyatt regarded her in wide-eyed curiosity and reached up, intending to grab the loose sleeve of her dress, looking a little surprised and a little disturbed when his questing fingers poked right through her incorporeal arm, and Melinda laughed as she straightened up and stepped back.

One by one, each of the matriarchs did as Melinda had, going in, Phoebe surmised by the growing-steadily-closer-to-modern dresses, chronological order. Their mother was very nearly the last, favoring Piper with a proud, loving smile before she withdrew, and then Prue stepped forward in the same brisk, confident stride she'd always used, smiling adoringly at Wyatt as she blessed him. _"He's beautiful,"_ she mouthed as she straightened up. Then, at Grams' sharp look, she finished with a quick _"Love you,"_ before returning to her place in the back of the crowd.

"We pledge to watch over him," Grams continued, transferring Wyatt into his mother's arms, "and ask the Powers to bless, protect and prepare him through the years of his childhood, so that he will be ready to walk the path set before him. So mote it be."

"So mote it be," affirmed the matriarchs. Grams gave Piper and Leo a look, and they repeated, "So mote it be."

"So mote it be," she and Paige chimed in. She gave Cole a nudge, and he said it too—slightly out-of-synch, but that was all right; the ritual phrase wouldn't feel as familiar in his mouth as it did in hers.

Grams turned away from the matriarchs to face Piper and Leo. "As this child's parents, it is your responsibility to respect him, for he is unique in all the world; to give him a happy and loving home, for this is his right; to challenge him, so he will know his weaknesses and his strengths; to be ready to stand with him in adversity, so he will always be protected; and to guide him in the use and control of his power and in the ways of our family. Do you accept these responsibilities?"

"We do," Piper and Leo said together.

Grams nodded acknowledgement. "But remember," she said, "that raising a child is not the responsibility of his parents alone. Have you chosen someone to stand as godmother to this child?"

"Yes," Piper said, and with her free hand, motioned her youngest sister forward. "Paige?"

Phoebe could feel Paige's surprise—apparently she'd expected Phoebe to be chosen—but she nodded and moved to stand in front of her grandmother, who gave her a reassuring smile.

"As this child's godmother," she said, "it is your responsibility to assist his parents in his upbringing, to protect and to teach him, to come to his aid when necessary, and to raise him with love if his parents' time should come before he is old enough to walk his path independently. Do you promise to fulfill these responsibilities?

There was an instant's pause; then Paige nodded. "I do."

"Then," Grams finished, "with his family and his ancestors watching over him, may he grow in strength, joy and wisdom. Blessed be."

"Blessed be," chorused the matriarchs. Piper and Leo repeated the phrase an instant later, and this time, she, Paige and Cole spoke in nearly perfect unison.

No sooner had silence fallen then the matriarchs began to dematerialize, becoming orbs of shining light again and drifting close to the ceiling of the circle before vanishing. Grams stayed, though, picking up the athame again before guiding Piper (still holding Wyatt) to stand with her in front of the east candle.

"Powers of Air, we present to you Wyatt Matthew Halliwell, who has been welcomed into our family, that you may know, protect and guide him," she said. "Hail and farewell."

This time, she felt the power around them begin to ebb as the candle went abruptly out, sending a wisp of acrid smoke curling upwards. Grams repeated the same—well, almost the same—words to each of the quarters as she and Piper moved around the circle. On returning to east, she thrust the blade through the shining dome, now no longer so bright, cutting an arch-shaped doorway in it before motioning it down, where it became a circular line of light on the floor again, then vanished.

Grams sent the athame back to the worktable, then sighed—half in satisfaction, half out of fatigue. "There," she said. "That's done. And I promise I won't make any fuss when it's time for the next one"—her gaze moved from Piper to Phoebe and Cole—"because I seem to recall someone mentioning there was going to be…"

Piper turned to them, too, with an inquiring expression: now that Wyatt had had his Wiccaning, she had attention to devote to other things. "Was that just a throwaway smart remark, Cole? Or did it actually imply what it sounded like it did?"

Phoebe just grinned and let her hand fall to her abdomen, and that was all the answer she needed to give before radiant smiles spread over her sisters' faces and they rushed to embrace her (Piper passing Wyatt into Grams' arms first), their congratulations overlapping into something joyful but not easily comprehensible, and the intensity of their love and happiness for her was almost dizzying.

She saw Leo cross the room to give Cole a clap on the shoulder, and peered around Piper and Paige at her grandmother. "I don't suppose," Grams asked when things quieted down a little, "you might've seen whether you're having a girl or a boy?"

"A girl, Grams," Phoebe said with a little laugh: well, one step forward, anyway; one couldn't expect miracles. "And she's going to be beautiful."

"Well!" Grams looked intensely pleased, coming forward to hug Phoebe with her free arm and even deigning to give Cole an approving look. "Congratulations, my dear," she said warmly, drawing back and returning Wyatt to Piper. "I look forward to meeting my first great-granddaughter." Then, narrowing her eyes, "And I assume you're planning a handfasting ritual soon? Because your previous ceremony is simply unacceptable—"

"We are," Cole assured her. "Within the next…how long does it take to set up a handfasting?" he asked, looking to Piper.

"About a week," she replied with a sigh, "if we work really hard."

Phoebe remembered the hassle of Piper's handfasting preparations—which, after a pair of wedding planners had been fired (at high speed, right out of the manor's front doors), had fallen primarily on her and Prue.

"I'll make plans to come down this time next week, then," Grams said decisively. Then, softening again, she gave Phoebe another hug, kissed Wyatt's forehead, and vanished as the other matriarchs had before her.

"How long have you known you were pregnant?" Piper asked. "You can't have been keeping it secret very long…you're not _that_ good a liar."

Phoebe let that pass without comment. "I've only known sure for since this morning," she said. "I would've told you right after I told Cole, but then there was the Wiccaning and I didn't want to upstage Wyatt on his special day."

"Well," Paige said with a grin, "it looks like it won't be long before you have a special day of your own…"

_A/N: Sorry I kept you all waiting so long for this, but considering it's my longest yet (about ten-and-a-half pages in Word), I think the wait is justifiable… By the way, both the circle-casting and the Wiccaning are adapted from actual rituals, the latter paraphrased and with bits of my own creation, including the quarter invocations, added…I was trying to create a blend of Wiccan and supernatural magic, and I think I more or less succeeded. Thanks to those who have reviewed, and thanks to all reviewers-yet-to-be—I love long reviews (one paragraph and up), as usual, but short ones are wonderful, too._


	25. Understanding

"Dammit!" Phoebe threw up her hands in frustration and glared at him as she sat down on the foot of their bed. "Why couldn't you have a nice, easy trigger? I got Prue's power down almost immediately that time I switched with her…"

He let the complaint pass and smiled tolerantly. When she'd approached him the day after the Wiccaning and asked for lessons in using his power independently, she'd thought it was a marvelous idea—and so did he, actually, because the Powers forbid she should get into serious trouble when he wasn't there… "Come on, Phoebe, focus," he said, moving to sit beside her. "This isn't half as hard as the physical training we were doing last year." And she'd risen to meet the challenge then, so why should this be so difficult?

"And yet I'm starting to miss the swordfights and twisted ankles," she grumbled. Then, sighing, "All right, let's try it again. Give me a second?"

He nodded and triggered his power briefly before letting it lapse again, watching her intently. Twin lights appeared in her hands for an instant, but swiftly flickered out.

"The mimicking thing isn't going to do you any good if I'm not there," he reminded her for the second time, frowning. "What exactly is the problem you're having? If I can see one of your premonitions, then you should be able to do this."

"Yeah, well, there's a giant leap between theory and practice, okay?" she said irritably. Then, in a more even tone, "The problem is your 'trigger moment' doesn't last very long. For a second I can get it, but then it's gone and I have to fall back on channeling your emotions to keep your power active. And I know what I need to be doing—"

"Is using your own," he finished for her. "Okay. Maybe we're doing this wrong. First time you saw me use my power—what was going on?" Perhaps it would help her to a step back from the emotions themselves to analyze the situations that provoked them.

"Leo'd just broken the whole 'you have a Whitelighter now' thing to you," she recalled, half-smiling, "and you weren't exactly thrilled; I guess because you're used to working alone…I remember wishing you'd just accept it wasn't an attempt to patronize you, just part of the package; but for whatever reason, it really set you off. Why?"

He was silent for a long moment. "Another change," he said finally. "Another set of new rules. Before that, I'd just thought of it as a new power—but you're right; it's not; it's part of a whole vocation. And I guess it was the idea of having a Whitelighter that just made that sink in…"

It wasn't like he hadn't dealt with similarly sudden, drastic changes before, but being a witch came with a calling he hadn't been sure—still wasn't sure—he knew how to serve. The most basic rules of witch's magic went against everything he'd been taught for over a hundred years; that kind of conditioning wasn't something he could overcome in a month with a few hours of studying.

"Got it." Phoebe's voice broke into his thoughts, and he looked up at her. "That's what I've been missing—I said it myself, before we went to Magic School, remember? Your power's defensive, but you can use it offensively—you know how offensive powers're usually triggered by anger and defensive ones by fear?"

Of course: it was easy to remember Piper in the kitchen, dripping with chunks of watermelon after her molecular combustion had emerged in response to a surge of temper; and Paige, in the early stages of her Charmed career, orbing out whenever she'd been startled. "So mine's a cross," he concluded with a nod. "One part anger, one part anxiety. Does knowing that help?"

"I think so."

He opened his hands again, intending to prompt her as he'd done before, but she shook her head, reaching to grasp his wrist. "Don't," she said. "I need to see if I can do it myself, without any empathic crutches."

Releasing him, she closed her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration, and let her hands fall to her lap, palms up, and bright blue light began to emanate from them, shining for a minute or so before vanishing. "Got it, I think," she said, opening her eyes again. "Do I just do that, or is there something different I need to know if I actually need to block something?"

He shook his head. "No. As long as you can trigger it, it'll work." A short pause. "What were you feeding into that?" he asked curiously. "Because as soon as you knew what you needed, you got it awfully fast."

"Yesterday," she said, her half-smile apologetic. "All my expectant mother issues…fear for the baby, anger at myself for that and for what happened…you know. We worked through it."

"Did we?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Because you usually only throw yourself this diligently into something if you're trying to avoid facing something else."

She looked away from him and down at her hands, and he saw her catch her lower lip between her teeth: sure signs he'd hit the proverbial nail on the head. Reaching forward, he tilted her chin up gently so their eyes met. "Phoebe? What've you thought of that you don't want to tell me?"

"What, are you tapping into my empathy now?" she asked, her smile a little too wide to be anything but an attempt to change the subject.

"Nice try," he said dryly, "and no, fortunately. I just know you that well." A short pause. "Look—anything that's worrying you, we've gotten through worse. Nothing you say is going to shock me or hurt me or whatever it is you're trying to protect me from."

He let silence fall and stretch, making it clear he wasn't going to drop the matter, and after a moment she sighed and admitted, "You're right—I'm worried about the baby. Yesterday, while you were all vanquishing the Necromancer…Leo and I were talking, and he just made this little joke about how you were definitely going to be Grams' favorite grandson-in-law when she found out we were having a girl, in spite of having been half-demon, and I started to think—"

"Of what might happen if she started manifesting demonic powers," he finished for her. He remembered all too well how fragile her health had been during her previous pregnancy, and the he didn't want to think what must have happened to her while he'd been in the Wasteland. "I don't think we need to worry about that," he said quietly. "What happened during your last pregnancy couldn't happen this time, even if I were a full demon."

"Why not?"

"Because a demon's powers don't develop like a witch's," he explained. "What the Source did, forcing his powers onto the baby so they showed in the womb—that wasn't normal. Demonic powers usually manifest around adolescence…I couldn't do a thing until I was about fifteen, and that was several years behind the rest of my peers."

Her expression was curious. "Because you were half-human?"

"That's what I decided it had to be, later, although at the time I was too busy complaining about it to draw any conclusions." A wry half-smile. "You think normal kids are vicious, try growing up with demons. But anyway, the point I'm trying to make here—even if what Light Magic did to me didn't touch my genes, we wouldn't have to worry about the possibility of anything demonic showing up until her late teens."

Phoebe relaxed visibly and leaned into his side, reaching for his arm, which he wrapped around her shoulders. "Thank God." Then, looking up at him, she added quickly, "It's not the powers themselves I'm worried about—I know we'll raise her to be good and it won't be a problem if she has them—it's just that I really couldn't have them inside me if—"

"It's not news to me that a good witch can't contain demonic powers," he assured her, laughing a little. "I'm not going to take it personally." A short pause. "Was that it?"

"Yeah. For now, anyway," she added, sighing. "I really should've brought that to you yesterday…I don't know, I guess I was just afraid of bringing up anything that either of us would rather have stay buried."

"In this family, it's leaving things alone that's more dangerous," he said lightly. Then, sobering, he drew back a little to meet her gaze. "Phoebe, the hundred and fourteen years before I met you aren't an open wound you have to avoid touching. We both know I've done horrible things I don't want to talk about, but other than that, it's okay to ask whatever you want to know. _Especially_ to keep the baby safe."

Phoebe nodded. "Or as safe as she can be, anyway, with a Charmed mother." A short pause. "Your deflection'll be enough to get me through the rest of this trimester, and maybe even some of the second one, but when I start putting on weight and slowing down…I can't do what Piper did and blow up demons from a safe distance."

He would be lying if he said he weren't relieved about that, if only because it would take her off active-duty vanquishing for most of her pregnancy. "When you can't go on a vanquish with your sisters, I'll take up the slack," he promised. "I can't stand in for you in the Power of Three, but a hundred-plus years of combat training have to count for something."

She offered a half-smile, but he didn't miss the flicker of concern in her eyes. "Show me you can brew a working vanquishing potion, and I'll consider it," she said dryly. Then, in a lighter tone, "I know you've been studying—about how far along are you?"

"I've covered the 'witches be warned' notes, the Wheel of the Year and color and elemental correspondences, and now I'm memorizing herbal associations for potions work," he answered, recalling the time he'd spent reading both the Book of Shadows and the notebook he'd found in the attic, presumably compiled for Paige's use. "You'll probably have to work with me on the brewing process, and I still need to get through the part on spell and ritual design, but I figured I'd better know all the components first."

"I don't know if I should be impressed or jealous," she said with a grin, her expression quite emphatically the former. "D'you know how long it was before we started studying the craft out of books? You've gotten more of that stuff committed to memory in a month than we learned the hard way in a year."

He was fairly sure she was exaggerating: they couldn't possibly have survived as long as they had working half-blind. "But you're more comfortable with what you do than I think I ever will be," he said. "All the studying I'm doing is just to catch up; learn what I can do and how to do it well." A short pause. "Everything I learned a hundred years ago no longer applies, so for the first time in long time, I have work from the basics up."

"And there's so much information and so many rules and it's all so different from anything you've ever known that you feel like a fish out of water," she said matter-of-factly. Then, at his questioning look, "That was experience talking, not the empathy. Remember, we weren't raised for this whole witch thing any more than you were. When we finally got our powers back and found out we had a destiny to fulfill…" A slight, rueful smile. "The only training we had, we got on the job. It took me several years to feel really comfortable as a witch—you know, like I could improvise and not worry about having my spell blow up in my face."

He gave her an incredulous look—he hadn't seen any of the uncertainty she'd described when she'd built the spell that had taken them into his memories, or worked with Paige on the ritual that raised the wards. Sure, he knew intellectually that she'd been a novice once, but that she'd felt so incapable and inexperienced… "Even if that's normal," he said at last, "there's still part of me that feels like I'm trying to be something I'm not. Everything I've done in the past—and now I'm suddenly supposed to have a higher calling?"

"Cole, you've only been a witch for a month," she said softly, leaning into his side. "Self-perception takes a lot longer than that to change—on some level, you still think of yourself a demon learning to be a witch, and that has to be weird, but it'll get better. You just need to give it time." A short pause, then, dryly, "Trust me: filling in while I'm on maternity leave should bring the whole 'I'm a witch' thing into focus really fast."

"Probably," he said with a nod. After all, there was nothing like field practice to sharpen new skills. "And speaking of maternity, have you called the doctor yet? You said yesterday that you probably should…"

"Not yet," she said ruefully, shaking her head. "I was kind of caught up in the 'we have to put a handfasting together in just a week!' hysteria last night. But I checked on the 'Net earlier, and it said most doctors won't actually have you come in for a prenatal checkup before the eighth week. I'm only just past my fourth."

"Never a bad idea to plan ahead," he noted, reaching with his free hand to give her still-flat abdomen a gentle pat. Still, if what she'd said was correct, she could as easily schedule the appointment after their handfasting was over and things had calmed down. "But there is such a thing as going overboard," he allowed as an afterthought, remembering Piper's rush to put together a checklist of ritual preparations the previous evening.

"Not talking about the baby, are you?" she asked with a grin. "I know. My sisters were driving me a little crazy, too. I mean, I was all for having a fairytale wedding last time around, but now…" A shrug. "Not so much. A nice dinner, some flowers, a little ribbon maybe, but nothing huge." There was a brief pause, and then she laughed. "You know, with the big church thing we were doing before, I was so worried about the rice and the caterers and my dress...I don't think I actually thought about what it all _meant_ until I was walking down the aisle. This time, I want it to be about us, not the frills."

He had to agree: their previous wedding—if he deigned to call it theirs—had been an absolute headache, and not only because of the Source's actions. Watching Phoebe and her sisters rush around making, checking and double-checking on the myriad of preparations had been exhausting, and her seemingly endless barrage of questions ("What kind of flowers? What music? What food?") had been bearable only because they'd annoyed the hell out of the Source. He remembered thinking that if this was how a wedding was put together, then it was no wonder she'd been reluctant to marry him.

"My feelings exactly," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "So let's keep things small and simple this time, because I personally have no desire to see you running around ranting about the merits of blue bridesmaid dresses over pink or whatever it was." Then, allowing a teasing note to creep into his tone, he added, "Everything kind of started to run together somewhere between the roses and the hors d'oeuvres."

She pretended to glare, then let the severe expression soften into a grin. "Okay, okay—I get your point," she conceded. "Small and simple; no obsessing." A short pause. "What about something like Piper's wedding?"

_Oh, no._ He remembered Piper's wedding well—right down to the last ribbon and oversized urn of flowers. "It was a beautiful ceremony," he began, trying for tact, "but arranging something that elaborate in a week would be—"

"You can stop with the dread," she broke in. "I meant her _first_ wedding, when she and Leo were trying to elope before the Elders caught on. It wasn't big—she didn't even have a wedding dress—but we had flowers, some silk garlands on the walls…it all went together in a couple of hours. Even just having a week, we wouldn't have to rush."

"Sounds perfect," he agreed. "Besides, we wouldn't want to put up anything we couldn't afford to have pulled down just as fast."

A wry grin. "Taking more lessons from Piper?"

"Yeah," he said, chuckling in spite of himself as he remembered the devastation and the shell-shocked look on the face of the bride. It hadn't been funny at the time, of course, but in retrospect… "When I think of how long that must've taken you to put together—and it was completely ruined in ten seconds flat."

She was about to reply, but paused when there was a knock on the door. "Am I interrupting anything I wouldn't want to see?"

"We're fine," Phoebe said, shrugging off his arm and leaning away a little. "What is it, do you need something?"

Paige opened the door and swept in, pad and pencil in hand. "Piper just wanted to know how many of what kind of flowers you want for the ceremony before she actually gets the florist on the phone," she said, tapping the pencil's eraser against the paper. "And she says not too many, because she probably hasn't been paying as much attention to P3 as she should."

"Right, about that," Phoebe said, reaching forward and deftly removing the writing materials from her sister's hands. "We've decided we just want it to be small and simple. Maybe a dozen roses? Say, six red and six white?"

Paige looked a little surprised. "That's it? You don't want garlands or a bouquet or…anything?"

"Paige, we're having—all of us here make six, then seven with Grams, Dad's eight, and one extra place in case we're lucky and Mom gets to come. With such a small guest list, I don't think we need to make a huge deal about decorations." A short pause, a grin. "And as for the bouquet, let's not and say we did, considering you're the only one in the house not married."

"Touché," Paige said with a slightly bitter smile.

Phoebe winced. "I'm feeling resentment, honey. And anger. Lots of it." Looking up at her sister, she raised a questioning eyebrow. "Spill."

"Remember how I said I didn't think Nate was Mr. Right?" Paige said after a moment, looking sheepish. "Well, long story made really short, I started thinking I should check, and there was this spell in the Book…"

He tensed, knowing that those last words meant potential disaster and at least half a day rushing around to take care of the cleanup. _Depends on what she did, of course, but still…never a good sign._

"Not the Truth Spell," Phoebe groaned, reaching up and beginning to knead her temples. "Tell me you didn't."

Distinctly guilty silence.

"Skip down," she said with a sigh, making a 'go on' gesture with her free hand. "After you broke the 'no personal gain' rule and cast the Truth Spell on your boyfriend, you…?"

"Found out he was actually Mr. Wrong, also known as Mr. Married-with-Children," Paige said, her flippant tone belying the spark of anger in her eyes. "But don't worry, that was earlier; and I already took care of the damage control."

"Okay. You know what?" Phoebe said brightly, forcing a smile. "I don't want to be mad at you, because all those stress hormones aren't baby-friendly, so you just go tell Piper about those flowers, and whatever fallout comes from what you did, you deal with it."

Paige nodded and left, and Phoebe fell back on the bed. "Perfect," she said to herself. "It's always got to be something, doesn't it?"

"I think I saw that spell when I was going through the Book," he said idly, reclining beside her. "Unvarnished truth for twenty-four hours?"

"Unless she modified it," she said with a nod, "which she's been known to do, in which case I just don't want to know." She scooted closer, laying her head on his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Did I ever tell you how grateful I am that you know better than to mess around with magic for personal gain?"

"I think," he said, half-smiling, "it was one of those things that went without saying."

"Well, I'm saying it now, anyway," she said. "Paige's _got_ to learn that she can't just cast a spell whenever she wants…and I can't believe I'm the one saying this!" A pause, a little laugh. "I guess I really am growing up."

She had. He could still see elements of the capricious, carefree young woman she'd been when they'd met, but she'd sobered and settled since then, maturity forged first in the crucible of Prue's death, then tempered by the pain of the ordeal the Source had put them through.

"It was bound to happen eventually," he said, wrapping an arm around her and reaching to entwine their fingers. "Doesn't mean it's a bad thing." And it wasn't, because she was healing now and showed every sign of emerging stronger than she'd been.

"No," she agreed. "I used to think it was, but"—she shrugged—"with everything that happened between my cold feet stage and now, I guess I just…learned there're much worse things to be afraid of."

"True," he said. "And it's probably better to have a grown-up mentality, with the baby on the way—you wouldn't have any authority, otherwise."

There was a pause, and for a moment he wondered whether he'd inadvertently offended her, or else awakened some new worry, but then she grinned.

"As if she won't have you wrapped around her tiny finger from day one!" she said, giving him a knowing look. "You may not have the built in 'oh-so-cute' impulse I do with babies, but it'll be different when it's yours. Just you wait—the nurturing instinct will kick _right_ in."

The look he returned was skeptical: he wasn't sure he _had_ a nurturing instinct. Wasn't that more a maternal thing? "If you say so." Sometimes she really did know him better than he knew himself; maybe she was right. Because did love this baby, even if he wasn't sure what kind of father he'd make once she arrived.

And it was his experience that love had a way of eliminating uncertainties. It would have been unthinkable, once, to turn against the Triad, disobey the Source—but for Phoebe…

There had been no hesitation.

So maybe love could erase these doubts, too. Maybe, once she was born…he'd just know, and be as certain of his capabilities as Phoebe was.

Maybe.

_A/N: All right, this chapter is a bit shorter than the last two, but it wanted to end here and is meant to be transitional anyway. Overall, I'd say I'm pleased with it—next chapter, the handfasting! (But please remember to review this one, and that I especially love reviews of one paragraph or more. Feedback is an excellent writing motivator.) And my grateful thanks to Shel (link to her amazing work, which every Phoebe/Cole fan should read, on my Favorite Authors page), whose input was just what I needed to finalize the wedding plans._


	26. With this Cord

Phoebe looked up as Piper entered the bedroom, sighing and brushing a smudge of flour off her cheek. "Okay," she said, dropping heavily onto the bed. "The cake is frosted, the carrots are glazed and in the fridge, the chicken's out of the oven, and the artichokes should be tender by dinner." She looked tired, but also very satisfied. "What d'you know? Even after doing practically nothing in my kitchen but brew vanquishing potions for the last two years, I didn't forget how to cook."

"As if you could," Phoebe said with a grin, moving away from the bureau to sit down beside her sister and feeling the older witch's pride in the work she'd just completed. "You've been hard at work in the kitchen since this morning—you didn't have to go to so much trouble. Dinner for eight—"

"I know I didn't have to," Piper broke in, reaching to give her hand an affectionate squeeze. "But this is a special occasion, and I wanted to. Just think of it as my present to you and Cole, okay?"

She sensed her sister's sincerity and nodded. "Okay. How long do we have before Dad gets here?"

"He just called," Piper said, rising, "and he said he's running a little late. I offered to send Leo or Paige to orb him, but"—she shrugged—"you know how he is with magic. Depending on the traffic, he should be here in about half an hour. Which is probably better, considering that you're still not in your dress and Paige wanted to double-check the decorations and the altar setup downstairs." A pause. "I hope you picked a dress. I know you didn't want to wear your wedding gown from before, so…"

Phoebe nodded and moved to the closet, taking out a long, cream-colored dress. "I thought this one," she said, holding it up against her body. "What do you think?" She sensed Piper's dismay before she spoke, and answered for her: "You don't like it."

"No!" Piper said, shaking her head. "It's not that. It's just a little…risqué for a wedding, don't you think? I mean, the neckline just goes…" Bringing her hands up in front of her chest, she swept them sharply downward. "That's okay for a romantic evening or dancing at P3, but in front of Dad…"

Phoebe winced as she set the dress aside. She hadn't exactly considered the cut so much as deciding it'd do because it was long and at least close to white. "So maybe _not_ this one," she conceded. "But then what? I'm not sure I have anything—"

"I have a bunch of stuff that's going to waste until I lose the last of the baby weight," Piper offered, her tone a bit rueful, "and we're normally about the same size. If your closet doesn't have any other possibilities, feel free to go through mine."

"You're really in a giving mood today, aren't you?" Phoebe said rhetorically, remembering how rarely she'd been allowed to borrow her older sisters' clothes when they'd been younger. (That hadn't precluded a certain amount of borrowing without permission, but still, having _carte blanche_ was awfully nice.)

"Well, as I said, it _is_ your wedding," Piper said lightly. Then she suggested, "Maybe that blue dress I wore when Leo and I were trying to elope? Blue is kind of traditional for second weddings…"

"Good idea," Phoebe agreed, thinking back to how beautiful her sister had looked in it, "especially since I don't remember your having anything in all white. Should I get it, or do you want to?"

"I will," she said, moving toward the door. "You just put on your jewelry or whatever you have left to do besides the dress, and I'll be right back—I just want to check on Wyatt first. Leo's been watching him most of the day, and he might want a break."

"Sure," she said agreeably. She watched Piper go, then returned to stand before the dresser, where she put on lipstick and a dusting of blush and reached for her jewelry box. Giving the contents a considering look, she finally retrieved a strand of pearls, running the cool weight of them through her fingers before fastening them around her neck. Another moment's searching turned up the earrings that matched it, and she smiled as she put them in, remembering how Prue and Piper had bought her the set for her twenty-second birthday, a few months after they'd been Charmed.

_I'd never have imagined being here and now back then,_ she thought as she reached for her hairbrush, running it through in long strokes to smooth out the disarray left behind after helping Paige with the last of the decorations in the living room. Her ability to levitate had come in handy when she'd been hanging up streamers of ribbon over the doorframes, and even if she had been pushing the 'magic for personal gain' envelope a little, if Prue had been able to use her power to clean the attic without consequences, surely Phoebe was entitled to a little magical aid on her wedding day, especially since the previous one had been such an unmitigated disaster.

"All the mayhem the night before, then demons in the church, Paige almost getting killed, having to bury that Lazarus demon, Cole being possessed the whole time, and then the wedding from hell to top it off," she muttered to herself, putting the hairbrush down and pulling her hair back as she considered what to do with it. "Definitely topped Piper's ruined wedding, and then some."

"Last time? Yeah." She saw Piper's entrance in the mirror, turning to see her sister carrying the blue dress over her arm. "Let's just hope you have better luck getting married in this thing than I did."

"I don't think I could have worse than I've had," she said, and then grimaced as she realized what she'd said. "God, I hope I didn't just jinx myself…" It wasn't much of a stretch, after all, to conclude that bad luck could come as easily from a remark like that as from an offhand 'What could possibly go wrong?'

Noticing her look of alarm, Piper smiled and reached over to give her hand a squeeze. "Relax, Pheebs," she said. "This handfasting is going to be fairytale-perfect…and I will personally blow up anything stupid enough to try to ruin it."

The grin she returned was a little one, but she could see it'd reached her eyes, so it counted. "Promise?"

"Promise," Piper said. Then, moving to Phoebe's closet, she reached in the back, past a couple of Cole's sweaters, and pulled out medium-sized rectangular box tied with white ribbon. "Just a little extra surprise I ordered from the florist," she said, handing it to her. "Look."

She pulled the ribbon off, her smile widening in delight as she uncovered a wreath of ivy, woven through with small flowers. "To wear instead of a veil?" she asked. At Piper's nod, she examined it a bit more closely, identifying the blooms. "Ivy for fidelity, friendship and marriage, white heather for protection and wishes come true—"

"And good luck," Piper reminded her, "which never hurts in this family; plus forget-me-nots"—she touched one of the tiny blue flowers with a fingertip—"for remembrance and true love. It'll probably go on best if you leave your hair down." She passed Phoebe the dress, then headed for the door. "I'm going to put on something from my second trimester, then hit the attic to summon Grams, in case there're any pre-ritual preparations we missed."

"I double-checked the altar this morning!" Paige said, giving Piper an affronted look as she swept past her and into the room. She was wearing a mid-length pink dress and had her hair up in a bun. "We have the roses, we have the rings—which I poured some holy water over, just in case—"

"Thank you," Phoebe broke in, ducking into the closet to peel off her blouse and jeans and slipping the dress over her head. The skirt slid down her body with the rustle of silk, and she smiled to herself as she smoothed it down. "I was a little worried, you know, considering everything, but I didn't want to sound paranoid." Bending, she began to peek into shoeboxes. _I know I had a pair of white pumps around here somewhere…_

"In this house?" Paige scoffed. "No such thing as paranoid. It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you." Then, returning her attention to Piper, "_And_ I bought a new athame, so it hasn't been used to kill anything yet, and I told Cole to take care of the quarter symbols while I was doing the flower arrangements—he does know them, right?"

"He knows them," Phoebe confirmed, finally locating and putting on the pumps before leaving the closet. "And a bunch of other stuff—I think he just started potion basics."

"I'll ask him if he wants to go over it," Piper offered, "as soon as Wyatt starts sleeping through the night. Exhaustion does not mix well with volatile ingredients—the way I'm going, I might accidentally drop eye of newt into the burdock root or something."

Paige gave an expressive wince. "Last time you did that, it was on purpose and took out half the attic—it took days to put everything back the way it was, and that's not even counting the fire damage."

"Which is why you also don't mix potions while you're under the influence of spells," Piper said flippantly, passing Paige on the way out the door. "Help Phoebe with her wreath, okay? The High Priestess should be down in five."

"Very nice," Paige said admiringly, picking up the wreath and setting it gently on Phoebe's head, then giving it a critical look before adjusting the angle so it lay straight. "Symbolic marriage blessings." A short pause, and then she grinned and added, "And this time, I can say honestly that I'm a hundred percent behind your marriage…and be visible for it."

Phoebe let the second half of the comment go, surprised when she felt that Paige really did mean what she'd said. "Then you're over your issues with Cole?"

"Eh. Kind of," she said. "He still gets on my nerves, and I don't agree with how he does things sometimes, but he loves you, and he's got our backs when it counts." Another pause, a shrug. "Basically? I trust him, even if I don't always like him—but that's okay. I don't have to always like him." She grinned mischievously. "You like him more than enough for all of us."

Phoebe nodded—perhaps a bit too emphatically, because she had to reach up to catch her wreath. "Damn. Want to help me secure this thing with some bobby pins? I can do the ones on the sides, but it's hard to see to do the back."

"Sure." Paige deftly opened and slipped a pin or two over the back of the wreath. "We're lucky these stems aren't any thicker…you've got the sides?"

"Um-hm." Her brow furrowed in concentration, she placed the last pin, then let her hands fall. "I can hardly believe I'm getting married…I'm so happy it hardly seems real."

"It's real," Paige assured her. "Right down to the groom pacing in the living room—is he actually nervous?"

She shook her head. "It's the anticipation. When he says he hates waiting, he means it—Piper!" She raised her voice to carry to the attic, wondering what was keeping her older sister. "Are you okay up there?"

"I'm trying to find the lighter!" Piper called back down. "Paige, did you move it downstairs this morning?"

"Sorry!" Paige said apologetically. She called for the lighter, which appeared in her open hand in a little cascade of orb-lights, and Phoebe followed her as she carried it upstairs. "I was trying to make sure we were all prepared for when Grams got here," she said as she handed it over.

Five white candles already marked a pentagram on the floor, and Piper made short work of lighting them, then stepped back to take her hand and Paige's. Phoebe gave her a questioning look: the whole Power of Three wasn't strictly needed for this.

"I'm kind of hoping, if we give it enough kick, Grams'll get to bring Mom," Piper admitted, her half-smile a bit wistful. "Ready?"

She nodded, and they chanted together:

"_Hear these words, hear my cry  
Spirit from the other side:  
Come to me, I summon thee;  
Cross now the great divide."_

"Well, it's about time, girls!" Grams said briskly, materializing in a swirl of silver-white lights and crossing the boundaries of the pentagram to become flesh and blood. "I was beginning to think you'd never get around to calling!" Then, looking up at the ceiling, "Prudence! If you're _quite_ ready?"

"Sorry!" a disembodied voice replied, and as the second glowing flurry formed, dispersing to reveal her oldest sister, Phoebe felt her breath catch and a lump form in her throat.

"What, did you really think they could keep me away from my little sister's handfasting?" Prue stepped between the lit candles, becoming corporeal and catching Phoebe in a tight hug. "Not with a horde of wild upper-level demons."

She returned the embrace, only distantly aware of Piper and Paige crowding in on either side, and closed her eyes against the tears she felt forming, feeling Prue's love, her happiness and a deep sense of abiding peace. "Missed you so much…"

"I know…and I wanted to come before this, but there're some rules you just can't make the Elders bend." Prue gave her one last tight squeeze, then drew back. "Here. Gimme some room before I crush your flowers."

She hugged Piper next, then turned to Paige with a grin. "Nice to meet you in the flesh," she said, pulling her youngest sister close. "Because I've been watching ever since I got up there, and you've grown into a damn good witch." She whispered something into Paige's ear then that Phoebe didn't catch, but she saw a tear run down the younger witch's cheek as she smiled.

When that embrace broke, Prue gave Phoebe a scrutinizing look. "Hmm. Your jewelry counts as old, and the dress is blue and borrowed…new's the wreath…"

"Or the baby," Phoebe said with a grin, pressing a palm to her belly. "I would've told you at the Wiccaning if you could've stayed to talk, but…"

"I hate to ruin the moment," Grams broke in, preempting Prue's reply with an upraised hand, "but I believe I have a handfasting to preside over sometime today?"

"We're waiting for Dad," Piper said, grabbing a tissue from the box near the worktable and drying her eyes, "but you can check the altar setup, or cast the circle if we need one."

"Of course we need sacred space for a marriage!" Grams said at once. Then she added dryly, smirking, "Particularly this one…it needs all the help it can get."

"Grams!" Phoebe said warningly. "My marriage, okay? Mine and Cole's—and this time, there'll be _nothing_ wrong with it." She turned to Piper. "Leo has Wyatt ready, right?"

Prue brightened visibly at the mention of the baby. "Ooh! I've been looking forward to seeing him all day—I couldn't hold him as a spirit, and he's just too cute not to hold."

"He was asleep when I looked in," Piper said apologetically, "but I'll wake him up for his nighttime feeding at dinner, and then you can hold him. You can even feed him his bottle if you want…"

"Love to," Prue said with a grin. "Just because I don't get to have my own kids doesn't mean I have to miss out on playing doting auntie with my nephew…and my niece," she added, pressing her palm briefly to Phoebe's belly. "I'm so happy for you, and so is Mom. You should've seen her face when Grams told us the news…"

Phoebe gave her a questioning look. "Why isn't Mom here?" she asked. "I mean, don't get me wrong; it's not like I'm not happy beyond happy to see you, but I'd kind of hoped, especially since she was here for Piper's…"

"The Elders said either Mom or I could go," Prue explained, looking rueful, "and Mom said, since she'd already gotten to come down several times…she's watching; she just thought you needed to see me more than you needed to see her." A short pause, then a tentative smile. "Besides, after all the mess, I wanted to share your happily-ever-after with you."

And she was glad to have Prue there, even over Mom, because it'd seemed like forever since she'd seen her last and that had _hurt_… "And speaking of my happily-ever-after," she said, returning the smile, "he's probably getting a little impa—"

"Phoebe?" Cole called from downstairs. "Are you nearly ready yet?"

"Almost!" Prue called down before she could answer, and Phoebe felt an abrupt jolt of surprise from her fiancé.

"_Prue?"_

"Do me a favor and don't hurt him, okay?" Phoebe said to Prue in a quick aside as they headed downstairs, Grams leading. "Because I know firsthand he already has more than enough guilt over what—"

"Don't worry, Pheebs," Prue assured her. "I won't kill your groom before the wedding." A pause, then a slightly wicked grin. "I might threaten him a little after it, though, for old time's—"

Now it was Phoebe's turn to cut in. "Don't you dare!"

"Just kidding," Prue said, giving her hand a squeeze before adding quietly, "Mostly."

But Phoebe felt shades of levity there, too, so she just grinned and moved to stand next to Cole (who looked breathtakingly handsome in his suit) as Grams cast the circle, letting herself bask in the love she felt from him. "We'll be ready to start as soon as Dad gets here," she said, watching with some curiosity as her grandmother handed Prue, Piper, Paige and Leo objects from the altar and directed them to stand at the southern, northern, eastern and western quarters respectively.

"What're they doing?" Cole asked her, curious himself. "I thought we'd just use candles to mark the quarters, same as the circle for the Wiccaning."

"Grams already invoked the elements," Phoebe mused, "so it's not that…maybe some kind of blessing?" Piper had already made a similar gift of the wreath, so she wasn't certain, but it might be.

"Phoebe! Cole! Front and center, please!"

"Give Dad five more minutes," Piper said, "and then I'll have Leo go orb him from wherever he is, whether he likes it or—"

The doorbell rang, and Phoebe smiled with relief, then motioned for Cole to go stand in front of the altar. He nodded and moved, and she turned to open the front door, admitting her father and a gust of cool March wind. "Dad! Just in time…Grams wanted to start without you."

"Not surprised," he muttered, but greeted Grams with a cordial smile anyway. Then, returning his attention to Phoebe, "You look beautiful, honey, but…if you don't mind my asking, are you really sure you want to marry him? Because I don't remember things going so well last time around…"

Prue spared her having to make assurances, breaking in with a well timed, "Just walk her to the circle, Dad," so the surprise of seeing her there silenced him. He walked her to the glowing perimeter, which she stepped over to take her place beside Cole, and Grams, with a look that said 'Finally' as clearly as any words, motioned, and the circle rose and closed in a dome over them.

"Thank you, Victor," Grams said. She gestured, and a chair slid in from the conservatory, coming to rest a foot or two from the circle. "You may turn on the CD player and then sit down."

She sensed some resentment—not surprising, considering his issues with Grams—but he switched on Pachelbel's "Canon in D" anyway and did so.

"There." Grams turned to them, her expression warming considerably, and began to speak in formal tones. "We are here today to unite two souls as one. Do you, Phoebe Halliwell, and you, Cole Turner, join us of your own free will to acknowledge the bond between you?"

"We do," they said together.

"Then may your marriage be blessed," she said with a satisfied smile, "and the support of your family strengthen you in all that you do from this day forward." There was a pause, and Grams raised an eyebrow and cleared her throat meaningfully. "Ahem. Paige?"

The younger witch flushed and muttered a quiet, "Sorry" before coming forward with the lit censer she held, wafting some rose-scented smoke in their direction with her free hand and saying, "By the powers of the element of Air, I bless your marriage. May you grow in your understanding of yourselves and of each other." Then she offered a warm smile and returned to her place.

So she had been right about Grams wanting a blessing preformed—it hadn't been in the script, but she appreciated the gesture of support, because it meant that the past was behind them and her family was behind her.

Prue came forward next, holding a lit pillar candle, which she passed into Cole's hands and motioned for Phoebe to hold also. She reached forward, closing a hand around the smooth red wax, and listened to her sister's words.

"By the powers of the element of Fire, I bless your marriage. May it always be passionate"—Phoebe sensed amusement in both Cole and her sisters, and felt a grin hovering at the corners of her mouth, because God knew they needed no help in the 'passion' department—"and filled with new experiences and opportunities."

Her own smile a bit mischievous, Prue took the candle back and withdrew, allowing Leo, holding a chalice of water, to step forward. He dipped his fingertips into it, then reached forward to let cool drops fall first on her hands, then Cole's. "By the powers of the element of Water, I bless your marriage," he said solemnly. "May you be patient with and support one another in all things."

Then Leo resumed his former position and Piper stood before them, a pinch of salt from the bowl she held sprinkled over each hand. A few grains stuck to the lingering dampness of the water, and Phoebe stopped herself from brushing them off, just in case they were meant to stay there until her sister had finished.

"By the powers of the element of Earth, I bless your marriage," Piper said, her voice colored with a quiet certainty. "May it be a source of strength and stability for both of you."

She knew it would be, and could feel Cole's conviction to the same effect.

When Piper returned to her place and both Phoebe and Cole had surreptitiously brushed away the salt, Grams nodded slightly and continued, "You have received the blessings of your family, but no marriage will stand on outside support alone: it must be nurtured and sustained by the bond that exists between you and the fulfillment of the promises you make to each other. You may now face each other, join hands—the right hands, please—and recite your vows. Phoebe?"

She turned to Cole and took his hand, entwining their fingers, then paused for an instant to collect her thoughts. She'd wanted to write and memorize something the night before, but had gone through so many unacceptable drafts that she'd finally gone to Piper, who'd smiled and advised her to just look into his eyes and speak from her heart.

And that seemed to have been very good advice indeed, because standing there in front of him, feeling his love for her so strong she could have drowned in it, it wasn't hard to find words. "Cole," she began, "it took us several tries to get here, but this time, I know that we've finally got it right, because even after all the pain and the hardship, we found our way back to each other."

And somehow they had. In spite of everything the forces of both good and evil had thrown at them to break them apart, they hadn't broken. They'd made their way through it all and were even now fulfilling their future.

"I take you as my husband today, and I offer myself to you as your wife, promising to love, honor, and support you as we teach and learn from one another. In this life and all the lives to come, yours will be the name I whisper in the night, and yours will be the eyes I smile into in the morning." Smiling, she held those eyes and finished softly, "This is my solemn vow." She wouldn't have said it was possible for the love she felt to intensify, but somehow it did, and she felt the small smile she wore spread until it was beatific. Picking up his ring from the altar with her free hand, she slipped it onto his finger.

Cole's hand tightened briefly around hers, and then he spoke, not waiting for Grams to prompt him. "Phoebe…you've brought so much good, so much joy into my life," he said quietly. "You taught me about love, about family, and ever since I understood what they were, I wanted them with you. Today I take you, with all your flaws and strengths, as I offer myself to you, with all my flaws and strengths, knowing that our love will _always_ be enough; that we can face anything as long as we're together."

It was appropriate that he should have the last word on that, when he'd been right even in face of her doubts, and she sensed his conviction, his intent to uphold the sacred promise he was making.

"From this day forward, I will be a shield for your back as you are for mine; I will be your friend, lover, and soulmate, as you are mine." He paused for a moment, then repeated, "This is my solemn vow."

And she didn't care if he'd practiced that beforehand or not, because it was the most romantic thing she'd heard in her life—more so even than his second and third marriage proposals. _Okay, so I'm biased…_

Her blissful reverie was broken as he placed her ring on her finger, and she flexed it briefly, glad to have it returned to its proper place. Then she released his right hand and reached with her left to take his, only half-listening to Grams now.

"Here before family, Phoebe and Cole have sworn their vows to each other," she said, and then gestured, so that the silver cord on the altar rose and tied itself around their joined hands. _"With this cord, those vows now bind; blessed be their lives entwined."_

The cord warmed in response, glowing with gold light that affirmed the benediction. Then she finished with a pleased, "Blessed be," and they all echoed the words—even Dad, who usually disapproved of all things witchy.

"You may now kiss the bride," Grams said.

Cole gave her a grin that, in spite of its familiarity, still made her feel like melting, then pulled her close with his free arm and bent for a heated kiss that lasted until they finally had to break for air. Phoebe thought she heard Prue mutter something about "Save it for the wedding night" but couldn't be sure.

"I present Mrs. Halliwell and Mr. Turner," Grams concluded with a smile, "bound by their love and in marriage."

That concluded the ritual, and her sisters and Leo returned the symbols they'd been holding to the altar while Grams dismissed the quarters and took the circle down, then untied the cord around their hands in much the way she'd tied it. Dad, having risen from his chair by now, dutifully silenced "Canon in D."

"If the happy couple would come back to earth," Grams said dryly, though not without some warmth, "Piper has dinner waiting."

"And she slaved over it for most of the day," Paige said, nudging Phoebe's shoulder and giving Cole a sharp poke in the ribs, "so you can stare lovingly into each other's eyes while you eat."

Once at the table and with food in front of her, Phoebe discovered she was actually hungry—not really surprising, considering the butterflies of excitement in her stomach had prevented her from eating much at lunch. "This is wonderful, Piper," she said, swallowing a bite of chicken. "It's all…it's perfect."

"I know better than to take that as a compliment to my cooking," Piper said with a wry grin, "but you're right. Just having all three of my sisters here…"

"And your son, in a minute," Leo said, rising as the familiar sound of the baby's crying began to issue from the baby monitor on the counter. Then, pausing in mid-motion, "Actually…do you want to bring him down, Prue?"

"You know I do," she said with a grin, and left to go upstairs.

"Will she be able to visit more often now, Grams?" Piper asked, getting up and taking a bottle from the refrigerator to warm. "Or was this just a special occasion thing?"

"We'll see," Grams said after a moment. "She's grown, but if she's down here too much…well. Perhaps for the baby's birth, and certainly for her Wiccaning." She smiled at Phoebe. "Your mother sends all her love and best wishes for the little one, darling."

Dad looked up sharply, coughing as a sip of sparking apple juice went down the wrong way. When he caught his breath, he met Phoebe's eyes, his own wide with surprise. "You're pregnant? Since when?"

"Last month," she said, apologetic. "Sorry…I didn't think it would be fair to drop that into your lap before I'd even told you Cole and I were back together."

He looked affronted. "You couldn't have found five minutes to write an e-mail or something? For God's sake, your grandmother knew before I did, and she's dead!"

"In Phoebe's defense, Dad," Piper broke in calmly, passing Leo the carrots, "you haven't exactly wanted to be in the loop with all the magical craziness, and it was kind of tied up in that."

"We would've told you eventually," Phoebe said, a bit guiltily as she picked up on his hurt. "I thought…you know, do the handfasting first, and then wait a couple of weeks before announcing the baby. It's not that I didn't want you to know; I just…wanted it to be the right moment."

"So this was unplanned? The pregnancy?"

"Oh, it was very planned," Cole assured him, half-smiling. "The only thing we weren't clear on was the timing."

A long pause, then, "From anyone else, that wouldn't be a statement a man would have to read into," Dad said. "But in this house…I'm better off not knowing."

"I told you that years ago," Grams muttered.

She could tell by the annoyance she sensed that Dad had heard her, but his reply, fortunately, was interrupted when Prue walked into the kitchen with Wyatt in her arms. "Oh…you are so cute!" she cooed at him. "You're going to break hearts when you grow up…" She sat down at the table and accepted the bottle Leo handed her, offering the nipple and smiling when Wyatt pursed his lips and began to suck. "Sorry it took so long," she apologized, turning to Piper. "I had to talk his force field down…that's got to be an annoying habit to deal with."

"It's a godsend when a demon pops in, and anyway, he only does it with strangers," Piper said with a shrug. "He'll stop it if he sees you enough, which he will…right?"

"I don't know that yet," Prue said, shifting Wyatt to her other arm. The bottle stayed suspended as she did, and Phoebe couldn't help a smile: it'd been too long since she'd seen her sister's form of telekinesis, and it brought back memories, particularly of her little Matthew and how invaluable it had been to have a fourth set of metaphysical hands. "And I don't want to kill the mood with shoptalk—this's Phoebe and Cole's night, not mine."

Piper mock-glared at her. "You couldn't have had this little brainstorm on my wedding day?"

"Being dead is enlightening in a lot of ways," Prue said easily, grinning. "When you can see the whole big picture, all of a sudden it you realize just how little really was all about you. Kind of deflated my ego, but in a good way."

Feeling a note of incredulity from Paige, Phoebe wondered just how high a pedestal they really had put Prue on after she'd died. If they'd left out the character flaws, or minimized them, it was easy to see how Paige might have felt inadequate in her late sister's shadow.

"Anyway," Prue said, narrowing her eyes a little to lift her glass, "to the sort-of-newlyweds. May everything finally work out for them this time."

Phoebe smiled, despite the less-than optimistic toast, and leaned in against Cole's side. "Thanks, Prue."

"Do you get to stay for the night?" Paige asked, looking hopeful. "Or…?"

"The ceremony was a given," Grams said dryly, finishing the last of her chicken and setting down her fork, "and dinner was pushing it. Girl talk will wait for another time."

Probably just as well, considering she had other plans for her evening that definitely excluded her sisters' company. "I want to see you at least once before the baby's born," she said to Prue. "And Mom, too…maybe we can have a baby shower?"

"It'd probably be easier to plan to do something after her Wiccaning," Piper mused, "except that you wouldn't enjoy it much on five or so hours of broken sleep."

She managed not to wince, knowing all too well how often Wyatt's crying woke the household and how tired Piper and Leo still were. She probably wouldn't be in a celebratory mood after their daughter arrived, at least not until her sleeping patterns modulated.

"So it'd definitely be a pre-birth thing," Paige said.

"Summon me, and I'll do my best to be there," Prue promised. Grams gave her a look and tilted her head upward, and she sighed. "Okay, okay. Just give me two minutes." She put aside the just-emptied bottle and cuddled Wyatt close, then transferred him into Piper's arms. "He's adorable, Piper, and I'm so proud of you. You've gotten this family through so much…"

Piper wrapped her free arm around Prue, her eyes glistening with tears, and this time Phoebe did wince, feeling her sister's pain at the prospect of Prue's leaving. "Come back soon, okay?" Piper said, her voice almost entirely steady. "We all miss you…"

"I know. I miss you, too." Releasing Piper, Prue gave Leo a quick hug, then moved around the table to Phoebe. "You know, most of last year I watched you with him and just wanted to scream? I'd've been behind you when you wanted to run…and I'd've been wrong. Your faith in him wasn't naïve…turns out you picked a good man, Pheebs. And I wanted to apologize for having so many doubts."

She forced an "Apology accepted" past the lump rising in her throat and rose to hug her sister tight. "I love you, Prue."

"Love you, too."

She didn't say anything to Cole—her apology had really been to them both—but he returned the smile she offered and nodded acceptance.

Phoebe watched as Prue hugged Dad and Paige, then moved to give her grandmother a final hug and watched as they dissolved into silver-white light. Dad looked a little teary after that, and only got halfway through his slice of cake before saying his own goodbyes, although he did tell them to call more often before he left.

The remainder of dessert was spent in small talk, and it wasn't a surprise to either of her sisters that her mind wasn't really on it. "Try to remember to hang that dress up when you get out of it," Piper said when Phoebe and Cole left the table, "and don't wake us up. I'm missing out on enough sleep as it is."

She made a face, pretending offense, but nodded as she followed Cole upstairs. "I can still hardly believe we're married," she said, moving into the bedroom and toeing off her shoes. "And without a single disaster."

"Yeah." She heard the smile in Cole's voice, felt his wonder and joy and love—without the rest of the family sharing close quarters, it was easy to focus on him alone. He shut the door behind them and moved to embrace her, bending for a second heated kiss and adding when it broke, "I wasn't sure that was possible, given the family track record."

"I guess it is." Reaching up, she loosened and removed the bobby pins holding her wreath in place and set it aside. "I was kind of expecting the other shoe to drop all day, you know?"

"Yes. Not a bad assumption, either. Anything that can go wrong…"

"But not tonight," she said, unknotting his tie with one hand and trailing the other over the planes of his torso. "Tonight"—she dropped the pitch of her voice just a little and added 'come hither' overtones'—"I think we have other plans…"

He smiled, his own face and body mirroring her signals, then paused. "Is it okay? With the baby?"

"The baby is safe," she assured him. "I know these things; I borrowed Piper's pregnancy book. So…" She gave him an expectant look, already reaching behind her for the zipper of her dress, and within a few minutes nothing seemed to exist in the world but the two of them.

_A/N: Sorry for the wait, although I hope you all found this installment worth it. The ritual used is of my own design, but based on an authentic Wiccan handfasting. Note that some sections of Phoebe and Cole's vows are adapted from Morgan Llywelyn's "Celtic Wedding Vow" (a copy of which is posted on my LJ), and I disclaim aforementioned sections accordingly. Comments are welcome as usual, with short ones being wonderful and long (one paragraph and up) ones bringing me truly immeasurable joy…in any case, next chapter should begin to cover the events of "Oh My Goddess" and hopefully won't take a month to write!_


	27. Ominous Omens

"Ugh."

Cole looked up from the notes he was going over at Phoebe's moan of discomfort, sorry to see slight pallor in her face. It was mid-afternoon now, but morning sickness—which she'd been suffering for some time now—was apparently a misnomer. The OB-GYN had assured them during her visit the previous week that this was perfectly normal and should disappear in a month or so, when the first trimester ended, but he couldn't help wishing that there were a magical cure for the nausea. "Do you want a drink of water?" he asked. "Or I could get those crackers you have by the bed…"

Phoebe shook her head and closed the Book. "I think I'll just lie down for a little bit," she said. "I know Paige's 'something evil this way comes' instincts are usually good, but I don't think a heat wave is a sure sign of demonic activity."

"The majority of demons don't have power over the weather," he agreed, "and the few that do…well, they have to be aboveground to use them, and then stay if they want optimal control over the effects." Closing the notebook, he sighed and used it as a makeshift fan—he was used to heat, of course, but this was a little much. "If it is a demon, then he's masochistic."

"Agreed," Phoebe said, moving from behind the Book's lectern and towards the attic door. "Since I'm done with research, want to move your study session to the bedroom? Maybe quizzing you on runes will help get my mind off—"

He saw her stiffen, and an instant later felt a jolt of power to match hers, involuntarily echoing her gasp as—

_Flash!_ A volcano, spewing molten lava and clouds of dark, choking ash skyward—

_Flash!_ An earthquake, widespread destruction as the earth seizes and the fragile human habitations set on it crumble into shattered wood and brick and cement fragments—

_Flash!_ A roiling ocean, the waters gray with the storm; he sees a wave rise—and rise—and rise until it stands dozens of feet high, knows that it will travel and crash down and leave devastation in its wake—

_Flash!_ A wall of ice. He expects an avalanche, to fit the pattern, but there is only stillness; then an explosion as the ice shatters and two figures, a tall man and woman, step from the resulting crevices—

The vision dissolved, and he saw Phoebe, now ashen, her hand resting carelessly on the globe. _At least that explains where the premonition came from,_ he thought grimly as he moved to her side. "Are you okay?"

"Remind me not to get premonitions when I already feel sick," she said, making a face. "That shock in the beginning does absolutely nothing good for my stomach…which has to wait while we find out about the ice-people." She moved to pick up the Book, then sat down heavily on the sofa. "Paige should be downstairs working with the divination tools…and I changed my mind about those crackers."

He found Paige in the conservatory, brow furrowed with concentration and a slight frown on her face as she consulted the three runes in front of her. He was just beginning to learn these, but he knew three stones indicated a basic past-present-future reading, and he recognized two reversed runes—even without knowing the specific meanings, that could indicate serious trouble.

"Wunjo in the past," Paige was muttering to herself, fingering the pertinent stone, "then thurisaz reversed in the present and ehwaz reversed in the future…not good. _Definitely_ not good."

"Paige?"

She started, then looked at him over her shoulder. "Can you please not sneak up when I'm reading bad omens?" she said crossly. "They don't make me think anything good is going to be behind me."

"I'll remember that," he said with a wry grin, sitting down beside her on the sofa. "I just started on runes the other day, so I haven't memorized all the meanings yet—tell me, what are we looking at?"

"Basically? Joy and happiness in the past, then in the present, either a warning that we're not going to want to listen to or just an abrupt ending to the joy and happiness. And in the future, some kind of a loss—the breaking of a bond." Picking up the runes, she regarded them grimly for a moment before dropping them into a small drawstring bag, which she left on the table. "We want to watch our backs. I got similar readings from the tarot, I-Ching and tea leaves."

He whispered a fervent wish under his breath that the future loss didn't refer to a death, then drew a deep breath and reminded himself that divination was never absolute and it would do him no good to fear what hadn't yet occurred. "Whatever's coming, it's coming on a grand scale," he said soberly. "Phoebe just got a premonition off the globe in the attic—volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, a tsunami…and then two people trapped in ice getting loose. I'm guessing whoever they are, they're the ones who'll cause the rest."

She looked dubious. "Any demons you know who spent the last couple of centuries in deep-freeze?"

"No." But the situation still seemed familiar, like he _should_ know it from somewhere. "Phoebe wants you up in the attic," he said at last. "I'll be right up, as soon as I get her crackers."

"Still with the morning sickness?" Paige said, looking sympathetic. "Poor Phoebe…hopefully it won't last through two trimesters like Piper's. Here." She called for the crackers, and when the box materialized, passed it into his hands. "There you go. Let's hit the Book."

Phoebe accepted the crackers gratefully when they returned upstairs, sticking one into her mouth and leaning back against the sofa cushions. "Nothing in the demon section," she said after a moment, "upper-level or otherwise."

"Whatever they were, they weren't demons," he said with certainty. "Demons powerful enough to cause disasters like that and then trapped would have been legends in the Underworld."

"I'm sensing a 'but' here," Phoebe said, raising an eyebrow.

"I feel like I should remember them," he said, frustrated. "I heard of them somewhere, but wherever it was, it was a long time ago and it wasn't underground."

Paige made an incredulous noise. "Where else are you going to hear about big, powerful people who can move the earth? And what else could they be?"

"If Cole says they're not demons, then it's safe to say they're not demons," Phoebe said with a shrug. "Besides, I never saw demons dressed like ancient Greeks."

"Ancient Greeks?" he asked, thinking back to the final image. His attention had been on their faces then, not their outfits, but if Phoebe were right…if these beings were what he thought…

"Well, yeah. I'm not a big history girl like Prue was, but even I can recognize a toga." She paused, then, giving him a scrutinizing look, said, "I just rang a bell. What are they?"

"I think they might be Titans."

"Titans? Like ninth-grade mythology class, came before the whole Olympus crew?" Paige asked. "Those Titans?"

He nodded. "If I'm right, it explains why I wouldn't have remembered them from my demon years. They're something I would've first learned about in a human classroom…and a lot of myths do have some basis in fact."

"Banshees, Furies, Sirens…" Phoebe said ruefully, opening the Book again and beginning to rifle through the pages. "And if they really are the gods mythology says they are, then the whole 'power over the weather' thing makes sense…and we are seriously screwed." A short pause as more pages were turned, then, "Ah-ha! Titans!"

He scooted a little closer to look over her shoulder, reading aloud for Paige's benefit. "The children of Uranus and Gaia, these pre-Olympian deities rose against the Elders centuries ago, in an attempt to take over the heavens. They were finally subdued and entombed by deified mortals." A pause. "Well, that explains where the Olympians came from."

"And why they act so human in all the mythology," Phoebe said with a nod. Looking over at him, she asked, "You're the one who had the classical education—is the Power of Three going to stand up against these guys?"

"I don't know," he admitted at last. "But just their indirect influence can cause a heat wave and storms…and if the Book's right, the best way to stop a god is to be one. You're witches—powerful ones—but this may not be your fight."

"Then why did I get that premonition," Phoebe countered, "if not to prepare us for what's coming? We _are_ the most powerful people around now—generally, when something apocalyptic is coming, it's our fight by default."

And she did have a point, but… "I'm just saying we shouldn't jump in headfirst before we know exactly what we're dealing with," he said evenly, holding her gaze. "You can't expect to vanquish them with a couple of rhyming couplets when it took a whole mountaintop full of gods and goddesses just to trap them before."

"And point to you," Phoebe conceded, retrieving her cell phone from her belt and dialing, then setting the phone at her ear. "I'm calling Piper and Leo at Darryl's. Whatever's coming, it's going to take all of us…Piper? I'm really sorry to ruin your afternoon, but we need you and Leo back at the manor ASAP. I had a premonition of lots and lots of natural disasters and some escapees from Greek mythology...the Titans? According to the Book, we're in serious trouble…you're on your way? Okay. See you at home." She ended the call and shut the phone with a snap. "They'll be here in ten minutes."

"Great." Paige rose and moved over to the potions worktable, deftly selecting bundles and jars of dried herbs. "Are you up for potions-brewing, or are you still all nauseated?"

"Still nauseated," she said ruefully, resting one hand on her abdomen and reaching for the crackers with the other. "Too much movement, certain foods, strong odors…and sometimes for no reason except the stupid pregnancy hormones."

"Okay," Paige said, returning to the sofa and passing him a couple of jars. "Then Cole can help me brew the potions while you find more information on the Titans—what their powers are, their weaknesses, whatever." Then, to him, "You're okay with the dicing and stirring stuff now, right?"

Piper had given him several lessons in the last few weeks, and he felt competent, if not necessarily confident in the area. "I'm not an expert, but I know the theory and at least the basics of the practical. I should be fine." He rose, then turned back to Phoebe and asked, "You'll be in the bedroom with your laptop?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll e-mail Elise one of the columns I wrote ahead last weekend and then she what the Internet has on the Titans." She sighed and picked up the box of crackers. "So much for the quiet spell."

"As if it could have lasted," Paige said with a grin. "Come on. We all know better…yell if you come up with anything, okay?"

"Sure," she said, and headed for their bedroom.

In the kitchen with Paige, he set the jars he was holding down on the counter and asked, "Exactly what are we making? We can't vanquish them yet, and if the Power of Three might not be enough, what can we hope for out of a couple potions?"

"That's a can-do attitude, Cole."

"I'm a pragmatist," he said flatly. "And it's kept me alive this long. So? Defensive, offensive?"

"Offensive," Paige said with a proud smile as she put her own herbs down and retrieved a mortar, pestle, knife and cutting board. "I've been experimenting with potions all year…some of the brews I've come up with are stronger than what we used on the Source. Plus, we also have a few of Piper's recipes…" Reaching up, she pulled one of the overhead cabinets open and found a small, leather-bound book. "If you check the index, you'll find one that replicates her exploding power, plus some garden variety paralytics and some less-serious poisons."

"Poisons?" That didn't sound like Piper…or Light magic in general. "What'd she want with those?"

"She put them in there when she was still in emotional shutdown over Phoebe being Queen of All Evil," Paige said with a grimace. "Some kind of very creepy self-defense kick."

That explained it. "Oh. What're we starting with?"

"They're gods, so strongest stuff first," Paige said, calling for a second small book that presumably contained notes of her own and flipping through it before stopping at a page near the back. "You can pulverize some of the dried burdock root while I put the water on and start shredding some elm bark."

He placed some sprigs of the plant in the mortar and ground them methodically, gripping the pestle so hard his knuckles went white._ Why did it have to be the Titans?_ He hadn't expected the run of peace and quiet to last, but neither had he expected to have it broken by an enemy Phoebe and her sisters were so unlikely to be able to beat. Their power and their line's had vanquished the Source, but vengeful gods were a different matter altogether.

"Tense much?" Paige said, turning away from the stove to glance into the mortar. "You only started that a minute ago, and it's already powder."

He put the mortar down and consulted Paige's book, then located a jar of dried nettles and began to chop some of them into pieces. "Yes, I'm tense. I'm tense because I think you're going up against beings you don't have the power to deal with." His voice rose a little. "They caused the weather shifts while they were unaware and locked in ice! What could happen if you brought them here and really set them off?"

"We're the Charmed Ones," Paige said stubbornly, squaring her shoulders, "and that's always been enough. We beat the Source—"

"And I know better than anyone how much power it had," he reminded her. "Just based on what Phoebe and I saw them do, the Titans have a lot more."

"Which's why we're lucky we have stronger potions," Paige said. "Look, I'm not saying you're wrong to think we should watch our backs, but the gloom-and-doom attitude will get us nowhere. Did you always go into battle with so many doubts?"

"No," he said levelly, narrowing his eyes. "But back then, I had nothing to lose."

Paige's reply was cut off by the sound of the front door opening, and he moved into the living room to see Piper enter with an irritated expression and Wyatt's carrier in her arms. "Okay, Cole, what do we know about the Titans?"

"They're ancient gods and enemies of the Elders, they've escaped from entombment and they're packing enough power to cause earthquakes and assorted other natural disasters," he explained. "Phoebe's upstairs doing research, and Paige and I were just starting on potions—where's Leo?"

She gave him a sour look. "Do you really need to ask?"

"With the Elders, right," he surmised. Nothing else, after all, annoyed Piper in this particular way. "Warning them, I hope?"

"Yeah," Piper said with a nod. "Potions are my department, so I'll take over in the kitchen with Paige—want to put Wyatt down for his nap? I changed him before I left Darryl's, and he won't be hungry for a while."

"Sure." He took the carrier from her, then set it down and unfastened the straps holding Wyatt in and lifted him—carefully, because he was half-asleep and there was no point in ruining a good thing. Anyway, handling the baby was a bit more familiar by now, and he no longer feared damaging him in the process. "Come on," he said to the dozing infant as he climbed the stairs. "Into your crib."

Swaddling was still beyond him, however easy Piper and her sisters made it look, but he made the best approximation he could, then switched the light off and the baby monitor on before joining Phoebe in the bedroom. She was sitting on the bed, computer in her lap, reading something with a look of intense concentration.

"Anything?"

"Lots of stuff," she said with a sigh, "but nothing good. Like, oh, that the mythology says there're twelve of them? I could feel how scared you were when we were just talking about two, and I know what it takes to scare you—if the myths are right, then we're all officially dead witches walking."

He hoped that the two Titans they'd seen break from the ice were the only ones, and mythology had invented the remaining ten. Two of them were already more than four witches could beat. "Leo's with the Elders now—hopefully he'll have something useful to tell us when he gets back."

"You don't feel very hopeful," she observed, shutting the laptop. "What, worried the Elders are going to pick a really bad time to send Leo back with no information?"

"Yeah. From the way I've heard you and your sisters talk about them," he said, sitting down beside her, "that's more or less what they do…and right now, that's the last thing we need." A short pause. "Best case scenario, as far as I'm concerned, is that Leo tells us this is outside our jurisdiction and the Elders are deifying another set of mortals to deal with it."

She smiled faintly and scooted over, leaning into his side. "I know. Upper-level demons are one thing—that's nice, familiar territory—but earthquake-causing gods?" Her laugh was humorless. "Not exactly how I wanted the hiatus to break up."

There was a muffled explosion from downstairs, and he managed a half-smile: if nothing else, at least the potions were coming along well. "Are Paige's potions actually as potent as she says they are, or is she being overconfident?"

"Not sure," Phoebe said ruefully, "but here's hoping they perform as advertised, because it sounds like we're really going to need the fire—"

"Phoebe! Cole! Living room, now!" Piper called. "Leo's back!"

Downstairs, the Whitelighter looked uncharacteristically somber, and Piper's concerned expression intensified as she moved to stand beside him. The background clatter of pots, pans and jars of herbs placed Paige in the kitchen, and he joined Phoebe on the sofa. "Are the Elders dealing with the Titans?" he asked bluntly. "Or do they think they're something we can handle?"

Leo was quiet for a long moment before speaking. "The Power of Three won't be enough to defeat the Titans," he said at last. "The Elders are going to do what they can—until further notice, all Whitelighters are grounded and under orders not to orb." Turning toward the kitchen, he raised his voice a little. "That goes for you, too, Paige!"

"Just a second!" she said. "I'll be right out; I just need to turn the heat down so this potion won't boil over!" A moment later, she moved to sit on Phoebe's other side. "What's with the 'no orbing' edict?"

"Whitelighters are grounded so that the Titans can't track their orb-trails," he said heavily. "Two had already gone missing by the time Piper got your call. It's likely that the Titans killed them and took their powers…particularly their orbing power. They'd need it to get Up There and move against the Elders."

Fear flashed in Piper's eyes. "What about your orb-trail from a second ago?" she demanded. "How do we know they aren't going to follow it here and come after you?"

"The grounding orders weren't supposed to go into effect until after I got here," he said, reaching to give her hand a reassuring squeeze, "so mine wasn't the only signature available right then—there was no reason it would have stood out."

"Okay," Phoebe said, bringing them back on topic, "so if this isn't our fight, we're looking at what? Titanomachy, part two: Titans versus Elders?"

"Titanomachy?" Paige echoed, giving Phoebe a questioning look. "What's that mean?"

"'War of the Titans.' I learned the word while I was doing research…it's what the ancient Greeks called the collection of myths about the war between the Titans and the Greek gods." She sighed, then added, "If the websites I looked at are right, that war was eleven years long, and even then, my premonition is proof positive they were only locked up. If the Elders could have beaten them, they'd have done it before…what makes them think they can do it now?"

They all looked to Leo, who fidgeted a little under the scrutiny and finally admitted, "They weren't exactly discussing battle plans with me. I have their orders—that's it. Whitelighters are grounded, the Elders are assembling Up There, and Gideon's put Magic School into lockdown. No one goes in or out until the Titans are dealt with."

He was more than familiar enough with tactics and stratagems to know that such serious defensive measures wouldn't precede a battle the Elders expected to win. "That's their plan? Throw everything they've got at the Titans and hope for the best?" He shook his head with a humorless laugh. "And I thought 'draw the warlock' was bad…they're out of their minds. Do they even have offensive powers?"

"Electrokinesis," Leo supplied.

"And if that worked against the Titans," Paige said matter-of-factly, "they wouldn't have needed to create the Greek gods—why aren't they making more now? It sounds like a no-brainer."

Leo shook his head. "It's not. The Greek gods took care of the Titans, but then their power…it went to their heads. They forced mortals to worship them, became petty, vindictive…"

"And the Elders won't take the risk of that happening again, even if it means they'll all die," Piper said tightly, narrowing her eyes. "Great. Perfect. So now what? We wait until they figure out they're wrong and hope enough of them survive to fix the mistake?"

"And in the meantime," Paige said grimly, "reinforce protections over here, so we're at least secure if they—"

The sudden appearance of a cascade of orb-lights cut her off, and they all found themselves staring at a boy—no, a man, but just barely; no more than nineteen or twenty—with tousled dark hair and watchful eyes concealed behind the shaded lenses of a pair of glasses.

"Who the hell are you?" Piper demanded. "And what are you doing here? Whitelighters are all grounded, aren't they?"

A flicker of surprise. "They are?"

"What, were you playing hooky from the Whitelighter staff meeting?" Paige asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're not supposed to be orbing."

"Had to," he said. "I'm Chris—Chris Perry. I came from the future—not far, just twenty years or so—to help you stop the—"

He just had time to register the thought that this Whitelighter was an idiot before a tall column of spinning white mist appeared in the room—"Incoming!"—and solidified a moment later into the woman from their premonition. Quickly, he moved to stand in front of Phoebe, hands outstretched—

Several explosions in quick succession as Piper tried her exploding power against the Titaness, and he felt a rush of dismay when it did no more than provoke her and make her step back—Chris' voice, saying, "Don't look into her eyes!" but too late to stop the transmutation of Piper's flesh into gleaming white marble—

Paige called the potion she'd been brewing from the kitchen and orbed it, still hot, onto the Titaness, who cried out in pain and sent the young witch hurtling backward, with a discordant crash, onto the open piano before disappearing as suddenly as she'd come.

"_This_ is what you call helping us stop them?" he snapped, glaring at the Whitelighter. "You lured one here and could have gotten us all killed!" _Including my wife and unborn daughter!_ he added inwardly, but did not say it.

Chris looked shaken, turning away from him and moving to the Piper-statue's side, reaching halfway toward a marmoreal hand before seeming to stop himself and letting his own hand drop. "She's still alive," he said defensively, "and we'll find a way to fix—"

"If you're from the future," Paige said, a hard note in her own voice as she slid off the piano and brushed away Leo's glowing hands, "shouldn't you have known this would happen? Tried to stop it?"

"The timeline…it changed, before I got here," he explained, taking the glasses off and moving away from Piper. "Things are different, and I wasn't expecting—Piper wasn't even supposed to be in the room."

Paige opened her mouth to retort, but Phoebe moved to her side, raising a staying hand. "Don't, Paige. He's not evil, and he already feels guilty enough…even if what he did was stupid, I'm only reading good intentions."

And what else would the road to hell be paved with?

"You're empathic?" Chris' tone was one of frank surprise, and not a little apprehension. "That wasn't supposed to happen for—dammit!" He threw up his hands, turned away from them. "The spell was right, and we cast it right—"

"Chris?" Phoebe interrupted. "I hate to interrupt, but we have Titans on the loose and my sister is a museum piece—could you maybe rant later?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Okay. Now. Who are you going to be to us that seeing Piper become rock was like a knife through your heart?"

"I…know you and your family, in the future," he said after a moment. "And that's all I can say without endangering it. I'm sorry. But I came here to stop terrible things from happening, and if I'm going to be successful then I need you to trust me. Please."

Phoebe gave him a long look, then nodded slowly. "You're sincere…and if the pain you're in is anything to go by, the future was very, very bad." She turned back toward them. "We can trust him until he gives us a good reason not to. Right now, priority one is to change Piper back before the Titans decide they're up for another round." A pause, then, to Chris, "Any ideas how we do that?"

"No."

"Great." She turned to him, eyes pleading, and he wished he'd picked up some answer in his hundred-some years that he could give her—and she must have felt that there wasn't one, because the question stayed silent. "Fine. Without the Power of Three, we don't have a quick fix, so Paige, you and I'll check the Book. Leo—go tell the Elders to get a backup plan if you can do it safely. Cole, you stay here and make sure nothing happens to Piper."

He glanced over the statue, hands still upraised and blank white eyes narrowed, and nodded, silent. Leo orbed out, and once a moment or two had passed and he was relatively certain the Titans would not be returning in the immediate future, he allowed himself to relax a fraction and turned to Chris, who was pacing the length of the living room like a caged animal.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I'm here to alter history," the Whitelighter distractedly, still pacing. "I told you that."

He moved to sit down on the piano bench, which was closer to Chris' repeated path than the sofa and still afforded him a good vantage point from which to watch Piper. "Yeah. And from where I'm standing, it looks like history's already not what you expected it to be," he said. "You're young and foolish—and in deep over your head."

Chris stilled and spun to face him, his eyes narrowed like the statue's and his voice sharp. "What gives you the right—"

"Over a century of life experience and the fact that your big entrance got my sister-in-law turned to stone," he broke in, his tone flat. "There's a reason even demons don't usually mess with time, and that's because it's more than they can handle. History's not static, once you're right in the middle of it. Your being here changes things, and not necessarily things you mean to change."

"I know that." Chris' voice was hard, but a weary look came over his face, making him appear, for an instant, far older than he likely was. "I'm here to make the future better—I risked my life just to make the attempt. So don't tell me I don't know what I'm doing."

"You know what you plan to do," Cole said quietly. "What your influence will actually cause—you don't know that. You're guessing and hoping, and that might not be enough."

"I can't do anything else."

"Maybe not." He didn't know what darkness existed in Chris' future, what wrongs he was risking everything to right. But he remembered Light Magic's chess board, so immeasurably intricate, pieces and relationships he couldn't begin to fathom, and was afraid of what might happen if the game were meddled with by even the most well-meaning human hands. "But remember what you're doing. You aren't a god, and we aren't puppets; and if you mess up there's going to be damage you might not be able to fix."

Chris' expression was inscrutable, but he nodded once, curtly, and might have replied if the magical community hadn't chosen that moment to show up, appearing in various configurations of light and wind. _This is _not_ what we need right now…_

But the living room was full of magical creatures nonetheless—dwarves, leprechauns, fairies, nymphs, and one prim and disgruntled-looking elf. His first impulse was to call for Piper, who usually dealt with small crises like this, but remembered abruptly, his mouth caught in the shape of the first syllable, that she wasn't in any state to deal with the guests.

So he called for Phoebe instead, and began to maneuver around them, pulling down shades and drawing curtains. Assuming the Titans didn't end the world, after all, it wouldn't do for the neighbors to see their visitors through the living room windows. It was enough that they somehow managed to ignore or rationalize away the myriad of explosions.

"Cole? What's the—oh, my God." He turned and found her standing at the top of the stairs, mouth slightly open in surprise and eyes wide. "When did we send out invitations for a magical creature convention?"

"When we sense something horrible about to happen, where else would we go?" the elf said reasonably. Then, a bit snippily, she added, "You _are_ the Charmed Ones, after all."

"Yeah, well, right now, one of us is grounded, one of us is having morning sickness, and one of us is a statue," Phoebe said flatly, descending the staircase and moving to stand at his side. "We're not exactly at our enchanting best."

"Morning sickness!" Chris' voice broke in behind them, tight with agitation and a note of fear. "You're pregnant?"

"Nine weeks," Phoebe said with a proud smile, one hand falling to rest over her abdomen. "Why? Didn't you expect that?"

Chris nodded quickly and said, "Yes," but his tone and body language supplied an unequivocal negative.

Phoebe shook her head slightly, but let it pass. "Never mind—we have more important issues to deal with…and all these magical houseguests just might be exactly the help we need. Two-thirds Charmed power, plus a little leprechaun luck, some fairy dust and maybe a dwarf or two, and we should have Piper back to normal in no time."

He winced, knowing that the luck leprechaun gold generated was notoriously unreliable and that fairy magic, outside of some minor influence on nature, was confined to illusions and other, similarly mischievous antics. Glancing over at the dwarves, wielding pickaxes and other tools, he decided it was better not to contemplate what she wanted with them. "Phoebe…that might not be the best idea. If you mix too many types of magic—"

"Got it," she said quickly, no doubt sensing his apprehension. "Ix-nay on enlisting the magical creatures. But then what? If the Power of Two doesn't cut it—"

"Then I'll join you and add what I can, and if that doesn't work"—he sighed, feeling Plan C was definitely less than ideal—"we can bring Wyatt down here and try to make him understand the need to fix Mommy." It was a stretch, yes, but if the baby was sufficiently intelligent to raise and lower his force field as the situation demanded, it might not be impossible for him to overrule the Titaness' magic.

"You're reaching," Phoebe observed.

"I'm improvising," he corrected. "And could you at least try to do something productive?" he said to Chris, giving the brooding Whitelighter an irritated look. "Your important mission notwithstanding, we need everyone available pulling their weight _today_, so saving the future doesn't become a moot point."

An instant's silence, then Chris nodded. "Fine. I'll go start another batch of potions."

"And I'll go get Paige," Phoebe said. When Chris had gone, she leaned closer to him and said quietly, "Go a little easier on him, okay? I get that you don't trust him, but you kind of scare him a little."

Cole raised an eyebrow. "He's barely out of his teens and altering history, and _I_ scare _him_?"

"Point taken," Phoebe said with a rueful smile, "but…I don't know. What he said about history changing—if I wasn't pregnant in Chris' timeline…and you throw him off-balance now…"

Then that suggested that in the timeline the Whitelighter had come from, Cole had not been a part of Phoebe's life. "So you think something bigger than just our future got started that night in the attic," he surmised with a nod. "Maybe, but…"

If Light Magic had done what she'd done in part to avert a negative possible future, shouldn't whatever timeline Chris had come from have been affected by the change? Or didn't it work like that? Maybe one particular timeline had changed, and the others…

"Look, we can figure him out later," Phoebe said, giving his hand a squeeze. "Right now, we have bigger—" Crying issued from the baby monitor in the kitchen, and she sighed, muttering what sounded like '_way too much at once here'_ under her breath. "Okay. Fine. I'll get Paige, you do the uncle thing. There should be a bottle in the—"

"I'll handle it," came the elf's voice, and for a second Cole was almost ready to forgive her superior attitude. "Humans…you're absolutely incompetent when it comes to rearing your infants."

Before Phoebe could manage more than an indignant sputter on Piper's behalf, the elf had vanished in a wink of eldritch light.

"Get Paige," he reminded her. "I'll stay and"—he glanced around the room—"stop those crazy nymphs from escaping out the back door."

By the time he managed to convince the various magical community members that they really would be much safer in the basement in the event of an attack and herded them all downstairs, Phoebe had returned with Paige to the living room and was scribbling what he assumed to be a reversal spell on a notepad.

"Got it?" Paige asked her.

"I think so." She extended her hand to her sister, who took it, and they chanted together, _"Flesh and sinew, blood and bone, restore we now from ageless stone."_

The statue glowed golden for a moment, but remained otherwise unchanged. Phoebe approached it with a frown, brow furrowed with concentration, then reached forward to touch one unyielding shoulder. "I can sense her a little," she reported after a moment. "Not much, but she's in there. Paige, c'mere and let's try it again."

Paige moved to take Phoebe's hand again, and they repeated the spell. This time, the glow was more intense, and he breathed a sigh of relief when it dissipated to reveal Piper, obviously agitated but otherwise unharmed.

Phoebe hugged her older sister, and Paige began to go through what she'd missed since her transformation. Realizing only now that the sounds of potion-brewing were no longer evident in the kitchen, Cole glanced through the open door.

It wasn't a surprise that Chris was gone. But where, and why?

He had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't like either answer.

_A/N: Hello again! In spite of all my best intentions, it's been a little over a month (damn those midterms, anyway)…but I hope the long chapter made up for the wait. As ever, my hunger for feedback is shameless and insatiable—long reviews of one paragraph and up are my favorite, but short ones are great, too!_


	28. Deification

She looked up when Cole moved to her side, feeling his unease immediately. "What is it? Something wrong?"

A short silence, then, "Chris is gone."

"So?" Paige said, raising an eyebrow. "Future-boy is one more headache than we need right now. Besides, it didn't look like you liked him; why do you care where he is?"

"This isn't about liking him," Cole said irritably. "I don't trust him. What he's trying to do, changing history—he could make some mistake to evil's benefit; he doesn't have to be evil to do that. Just stupid."

"If it helps," Phoebe said, laying a hand on his arm, "he must know us well in the future, because he really does care. Whatever he's doing, I'm sure he thinks it's for everyone's good."

He did care. She hadn't been kidding about the intensity of his pain over Piper when she'd been petrified, and had sensed a deep, abiding fondness for herself and Paige. Oddly, though, Cole seemed to—well, not _scare_ him, exactly, but certainly unsettle him. That, and cause a great deal of confusion.

She decided that, for the moment, hers was not to question why. The enigma that was Chris could be unraveled after they managed to survive the Titans.

"So am I," Cole agreed, "but that's no help. His idea of 'everyone's good' is subjective. There's a good reason even most demons know better than to mess with time."

"Uh-huh," Piper said dryly, half-smiling. "Nice speech, Cole, but it'd've gone over better if I didn't remember somebody trying to screw with our family line about, oh, two years ago? Halloween? Of _sixteen-seventy_?"

She felt a little annoyance from him, but it was shaded with shame. "I did say _most _demons," he pointed out, "and that was before I gave a damn about consequences. Actually"—his tone turned reflective—"if I think about it, I knew on some level that I wasn't going to get away with it the moment you got there. Everything after that was—"

"More along the lines of cat-and-mouse?" Phoebe finished for him. It was something she could see him doing. "Sizing us up?"

He nodded, giving her a fond smile. "And you were very impressive on that broomstick. You looked magnificent…even with the ridiculous conical hat."

She remembered that night, the current of elemental powers flowing through her and the sheer joy of flight. "Save the sweet talk, Cole," she said, forcing herself to focus on the present. "We can reminisce later. Right now…what _do_ we do now?" she asked Piper. "Our wards didn't even slow her down, and that potion Paige was working on…"

"I know," Paige said dejectedly. "Total failure. It got rid of her because it burned her, not because it actually did anything magically relevant." A sigh. "So much for being super-witch."

"Paige, this is no time to go defeatist on us," Piper said, glancing at the still-smoking stain on the carpet. "We need you to hold it together, okay? 'Cause if the odds look bad now, we've got zero chance if we let them grind us down."

"So we're supposed to beat them how? With good attitudes?" Paige gave a bitter little laugh. "It doesn't matter how 'together' we are if we have no firepower—who do you think there're going to go after when they're done mowing down the Elders? After them, we're the biggest threat ar—"

"Don't," Phoebe said, turning toward her sister and meeting her eyes. "I know you're scared—we all are—but Piper's right. If we give into it, then we're signing our own death certificates." She looked up at the ceiling. "Leo! Now would be a good time for some answers!"

But when the orb-lights cleared, it was Chris they revealed, not Leo. Piper faced him with arms akimbo, her eyes narrowed, and Phoebe could feel her fear for her husband. "Where's Leo, and what's going on Up There?"

"Leo's fine," Chris assured them. He felt relieved, almost confident, and she seized on that to help combat her own doubts. "The Elders…aren't. Well, most of them. Leo's staying to help get the few surviving ones someplace safe. He'll be sending reinforcements in a minute."

Surviving? Okay, it wasn't like she'd expected the Elders to fare well against the Titans, but hearing that most of them were dead was still a blow. However useless they'd been, some small measure of security had been derived from knowing that there was a rung of the ladder positioned immediately above them, somewhere to go if they were desperate, and now that was gone.

"Reinforcements?" Piper said skeptically. "What's that supposed to mean? More witches?"

Phoebe hoped so. Preferably several large covens' worth, because it was unlikely they'd so much as faze the Titans with less.

"Not exactly," he said, smiling mysteriously and taking a step back, his anticipation making her tense. "You'll see."

The next thing she was aware of was light, almost bright enough to be blinding.

And then there was Power, suffusing her entire being in a flood of radiant heat that seemed to electrify and supercharge every cell. She didn't just _have_ power—she _was_ power. Power stronger than anything she'd ever felt or even conceived of. More than the Power of Three. More than the spell that had raised the wards. Just…more. And then some.

The light dimmed and died away, and she blinked her vision clear of afterimages, reoriented herself. She wasn't hurt; she wasn't in pain; she was…

She was wearing a long, white, toga-like dress. And was that knee-length blonde hair actually hers? She reached up, caught a lock between her fingertips and gave an experimental tug. Yes, it was.

"What the hell is this?" Piper demanded.

Phoebe turned toward her, seeing that her sister's clothing had also changed and her hair, caught up in a bun a moment ago, now flowed loose to her shoulders. Paige, on her other side, wore a similar dress—albeit with a more daring neckline—and held a huge trident in one hand.

"You're gods," Chris said calmly, as though this were perfectly normal. A short pause, then he amended, "Or goddesses, anyway."

"Which explains the costume change," Paige said, looking down at her outfit. "Did we really need it, though? It's not going to be easy to run in these things, and don't even get me started on how impractical long hair is in battle—" She broke off, and Phoebe felt her surprise. "Why do I care about that? And why"—she held up the trident, turned it over in her hands—"do I love this thing?"

She knew she should probably be paying attention as Chris introduced Paige and Piper as war and Earth goddesses respectively, and herself as a goddess of love, but Cole picked right then to move to her side and put a concerned hand on her shoulder, and suddenly the Whitelighter's terse lecture about powers and urges didn't matter: all she cared about was that the nausea-inducing pregnancy hormones seemed to be at low ebb, and her _other_ hormones, which had been out of whack lately, were working fine.

She turned and gave Cole an appreciative once-over. _Mmm…did I say fine? I meant _exceptionally_…_ Reaching forward, she raked the fingernails of one hand gently up his shirtfront and tilted her head up, parting her lips for a kiss.

He bent, returned her kiss far too lightly, and reached to catch her hand, moving it gently but firmly back to her side. She frowned, and tried not to be offended by the rising note of anxiety she was sensing—definitely _not_ the reaction she was going for.

"Phoebe? Honey?" he said. "I think your new powers may be going to your head—you don't want to do this in front of your sisters—"

Oh, so _that's _all it was. Silly of her not to have thought of it. "Of course not," she broke in, making her voice low and sultry. "Not when there're much, _much_ better places…"

He was already touching her, so it was child's play to transport them out—she wasn't exactly sure how she knew how to do it, but why question a good thing? When the puff of pink smoke dissipated, she cast a satisfied look around the little clearing. They'd need a bed, of course, but conjuring one up would be child's play, and it was otherwise perfect. "Remember this?"

He blinked twice in surprise, looked around, then met her gaze and spoke very calmly. "Yes, of course; I shimmered us here once. We had a picnic. Care to explain what we're doing in southern France?" He didn't give her time to answer. "Never mind, I can guess—and it's not that I don't appreciate the thought, but you need to pull yourself together. Now."

"Ooh, commanding!" she said admiringly, already thinking through possibilities. "Very nice…that could be fun—"

"Dammit, Phoebe, I'm serious!" he snapped, throwing up his hands in exasperation and then catching her wrists before hers could start to roam. "This is not the time for this and I'm _not_ playing games!"

She paused. Some niggling little part of her thought what he'd just said was important…

"Focus!" he said intently. "Or if you can't, tap into mine! You should at least be able to feel we're on two very different wavelengths right now…"

Yes, she _could_ do that, couldn't she? Focus, irritation, impatience, some fear…but none of the fevered _needyounow_ she was experiencing. Why was that?

_Because I'm hosting the powers of a love goddess with her libido in overdrive,_ said the niggling part, which she identified, after a second, as her rational mind. She focused on Cole's emotions to keep herself grounded, and after a moment, was fairly sure rationality was back in the driver's seat. "Okay. I'm okay. I think."

Cole relaxed visibly and released her wrists. "Empathic reality-check?"

"And how," she said, wincing at the thought of how she'd been behaving. "But thank God for it, or you'd've had to conjure up a cold shower pretty fast."

"Let's just be glad I didn't have to," he said dryly, "because I doubt bringing more magic into the mix would've helped." A brief pause. "So. If we're done with the side trip, could you take us back home?"

"I could," she said ruefully, "if I knew exactly what I did to get us here in the first place."

"Simple," he said with a shrug, unperturbed. "Transportation-type powers all work basically the same way." Reaching forward, he closed his hands around hers. "Just picture where you want to go and will yourself there."

_Easy for you to say, Mr. I-Shimmered-Everywhere-for-a-Century-Plus._ But she drew a deep breath, closed her eyes and fixed a mental image of the manor's living room behind them, and after a moment there was a slight jolt and a rush of wind, and she felt a wooden floor beneath her feet instead of the slight give of the ground outside. Opening her eyes again, she confirmed they were where she'd wanted them to end up. "Not bad for a first try."

"Second," Cole corrected.

"I was under the influence of goddess hormones the first time," she said with a grimace, "so it doesn't count." She dropped his hands and took a step back, reassessing herself. Said hormones seemed to be under control now—more or less—but they were still very much _there_ and singularly inconvenient. "Do cold showers actually help?"

"Yeah, but you don't want that kind of shock to your system in your condition," he said, shaking his head. "Just…try not to think about it."

She tried.

She failed. Giving him a pleading look, she suggested, "Maybe if we just make it really quick?"

"I'm going to kill Leo," Cole said to himself, giving the ceiling a baleful glare. "Why not the goddess of wisdom, or hunting, or healing—it just _had_ to be love, didn't it?" Then, to her, with what was clearly his best effort at patience, he said, "You have to use your power; you can't let it use you. Control it."

"I'm trying!" she said shortly. "You think I want to be thinking about sex when we have an apocalypse in the works? That kind of thing is supposed to be a turn-off!" She heaved a sigh, made herself focus on his eyes and not let hers wander downward. Maybe if she could figure out exactly what her powers could do, she could stop them from affecting her judgment. "I'm kind of blanking on my mythology classes—my power is…what? To create lust?"

"Or love," he said with a nod. "Maybe not the ideal power for this situation, but if the situation were right—control love, you control the lovers."

She felt a flash of old pain and guessed he was remembering the Seer's manipulation, how he'd taken in the Hollow out of love and how she'd almost damned herself for it. "Okay, but what am I supposed to do? Give them raging hormones and hope they forget about the world takeover? I'm having enough trouble with my _own _libido." A short silence. "We don't need a Cupid effect or a seductress. We need firepower, and I don't have that."

"You have _your_ power," he countered. "Your ability to love, to trust, to hope. If your powers as a goddess aren't enough, then channel all that into strength."

Good idea in theory, but how was she supposed to—

A rush of wind and swirling leaves interrupted her musing, dispersing to reveal Paige and Piper, the former pouting and the latter seriously annoyed. "Okay. Time to review some ground rules." Piper took Paige's trident out of her hands, opened the front closet, tossed it in and shut the door with a bang. "You do not get to transport yourself out of the house on a whim, you do not get to blow up anything except the Titans, and most of all, you do _not_ get to have a demon army!"

"A what?" Cole demanded, and Piper spun to face him.

"Cole," she said, sounding relieved. Thank God. I thought I'd have to go after Phoebe next and walk in on something X-rated." Then, to Phoebe, "Are you in control now?"

"Kind of," she said ruefully. "I mean, I'm not going to rip off my clothes in the middle of the living room, but I'm still…" She paused, searching for a tactful word, then finished, "Distracted. And I have no idea how my power is supposed to help us stop the Titans."

"Could be worse," Piper said, narrowing her eyes and giving Paige a look. "Athena over there thought her power to marshal an army of demons might help and needed a little morality check."

"I had them practically groveling at my feet," Paige recalled with a smug smile. "Nice change from having to chase down and vanquish them—and I still say, they were very loyal."

"Right up until one of them got brave enough to stab you in the back, maybe," Cole said flatly. "Demons don't do loyalty for its own sake. One of the reasons they started breeding human hybrids." He didn't wait for a response before turning to Piper. "So. If Chris is right, you were appointed to be in charge—what's the plan?"

"Get my sisters' heads on straight and Leo back down here to tell us where to go next," Piper said shortly, looking up at the ceiling and raising her voice a little. "This was his plan; he does not get to bail and leave me to battle Titans without direction!"

"You have direction," Chris said matter-of-factly, emerging from the kitchen. "Your powers should have you feeling in control and grounded, so you can guide your sisters."

Piper frowned, made a deprecating noise. "_Right._ Guide them where, into battle? Charge of the Goddess Brigade?" Her hands went to her hips. "It took a mountaintop's worth last time, and there are exactly three of us. Now, I don't know what the hell Leo was thinking, but—"

An angelic tone sounded, cutting her off, and Chris looked up, head cocked to one side as he listened. "Leo's thinking it's time to go. Now. There's an Elder under attack."

"Finally, some action," Paige said, retrieving her trident from the closet and shouldering it with a slightly feral smile. "Let's go kick ass."

Phoebe wished she could share her sister's confidence. But without any active powers she knew how to use, and the certainty that martial arts were not going to work on the Titans, all she felt was unprepared. Vulnerable.

"Be careful."

She didn't need her empathic power to see the anxiety in Cole's eyes and tried to manage a reassuring smile, something to take the sharpness out of his fear for her, but her best effort didn't so much as touch it. "We'll be fine," she said, affecting certainty she didn't feel. "We're goddesses, remember?"

"As if I could forget," he said, forcing a grin. "Just…"

She cupped his face in her hands briefly before stepping back, a loving gesture in lieu of the kiss she knew she shouldn't risk right then. "I know."

"There's a vanquishing potion on the stove in case of demonic attack," Piper said to Cole, all business now that they had orders, "and Chris will orb you and Wyatt to Dad's if you need to get out of the house; I have his address written on the pad in the nursery, as well as the regular emergency numbers. You know the spell to contain the Shadow if there's seismic activity and it gets loose?"

Cole raised an eyebrow. "Shadow?"

"Malevolent essence over the Nexus; lives under the basement floor?"

"Oh, that. Yes."

"Good. You're in charge of Wyatt, Chris and that sanctimonious elf until we get back." Stepping back, Piper took her hand and Paige's, and before Phoebe even had a chance to wonder how her sister knew where they were supposed to go, there was a rush of wind and they found themselves standing with an Elder behind them and two Titans in front.

Paige, deciding the best defense was a good offense, aimed her trident and fired an electric bolt at one of them, which was deflected harmlessly.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Never mind," his partner said. "Just kill the Elder."

And then there were electric bolts flying at them, and she put up her hands automatically, calling on Cole's deflection because it was the only thing she knew to do and hoping that her powers as a goddess would boost her powers as a witch.

White light, tinged blue, shone from her hands and met one bolt, sending it between the two Titans and into a low branch, which split instantly and fell with a leafy crash; she felt an electric jolt, the crash of meeting energies, and guessed either Piper or Paige had caught the second with lightning of her own.

"Strategic retreat would be a good idea," Paige said tersely, taking another, similarly ineffectual shot, then a third to redirect one of the Titans'. "Let's take the Elder and regroup."

The Elder, fortunately, took the hint and closed a hand around one of Piper's shoulders, and the wind returned as her older sister transported them home. "Leo!" she yelled when they rematerialized in the living room. "Get the Elder out of here!"

He was gone in a cascade of orb-lights (since when could Leo do that?), which Phoebe really, really hoped the Titans wouldn't sense and follow to the manor. There'd only been two, not the expected three, but two was too many.

They were freaking _goddesses_, and two was too many. What were they supposed to do now?

"Phoebe?" Cole's voice, from the nursery. "You okay?"

"For now, anyway!" she called back, and headed upstairs.

Cole was sitting in the rocking chair with Wyatt in his arms, Chris was pacing the floor, and the elf was nowhere in sight. "Fired the elf nanny?" If he had, it was good: she was one more source of stress than Piper needed.

"Told her I could handle Wyatt until Piper got back," he corrected. "She took that as an insult to her child-rearing ability and left with the rest of the magical creatures, who're apparently taking orders from Leo now." He half-smiled, amused, and shifted Wyatt, by now half-asleep, to his other arm.

The motion looked natural, not like the stiff, exaggerated care of a man holding something he believed to be in imminent danger of shattering, and for a second she let herself forget the Titans and imagine how he'd look holding their daughter that way. "You're getting good at that," she said approvingly, then frowned as she noticed that he looked tired and slightly pale. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah. We knew using each other's power came with limits—"

"I did this?" She remembered what she'd read about the potential energy cost to both partners when power was accessed over distance, but she hadn't felt…

But she was a goddess. She had enough energy, enough power that she wouldn't necessarily have noticed. "Did I hurt you?"

He shook his head. "I felt a little lightheaded before and I'd like a nap in the not-too-distant future, but other than that, I'm fine." He held her gaze intently. "Don't hesitate to protect yourself and the baby for my sake. I promised I'd shield you and I meant it." He stood up and transferred Wyatt carefully to the crib, passing a still, wide-eyed Chris and giving him a sharp look. "Is there a problem?"

"You can use each other's—how is that even—a witch can't handle demonic powers!"

Which answered the question of whether or not Chris was aware of who and what Cole had been. "He's not a demon," she said smoothly, "so it isn't a problem."

"Half-demon, then!" Chris said, irritated. "Make whatever distinctions you want, but it wouldn't make a—"

"I'm a witch," Cole broke in, his tone very clearly forbidding questions. "_That_ makes a difference."

Chris made a half-choked, frustrated noise and covered his face with one hand. Phoebe sensed new heights of confusion and anxiety and heard him mutter what sounded like a curse into his palm. Definitely not typical Whitelighter behavior.

She restrained herself from asking exactly what was his problem with her husband, since it was unlikely she'd get a straight answer anyway. "Okay. Whatever they are, your issues with Cole are not the problem right now. Get a grip and help us deal with the Titans."

He dropped his hand, straightened up, nodded and followed them into the living room.

"I don't get it," Paige was complaining to Piper. "I gave it my best shot and he didn't so much as bat an eyelash! What happened to being all-powerful goddesses?"

"Bottom line," Phoebe said with a sigh, sitting down on the sofa and scooting over to make a place beside her for Cole, "is that it was three to two, we're goddesses, and it was _still_ a stalemate. Meaning our all-powerful powers obviously aren't."

"Obviously," Piper echoed, "or I'd have my family back together instead of being stuck troubleshooting." She glared up at the ceiling. "Any more bright ideas, honey?" she called, sarcasm dripping false sweetness. "Because this one doesn't look like it's working out!"

The familiar angelic tone sounded again, and they all looked to Chris for translation.

"He has every confidence you can handle the situation," Chris said.

"That's the best you can do?" Piper demanded, her glare intensifying. "A secondhand pep talk?" When there was no reply, she stood up, contained fury written in every line of her body, and headed for the stairs. Pausing at the bottom, she said deliberately, "I will be in my bedroom with my son. Call me when you have a plan or when my husband is done reorganizing the heavens."

When her temples were beginning to throb with her sister's anger, Phoebe decided it was better to let her have her space. "Let her go," she said to Paige. "She'll be back when she's calmed down. In the meantime…you're the goddess of war, right? Show me what you've got."

_A/N:_ _So sorry for the wait, but had finals, final papers, and then post-semester burnout. I'm (mostly) over that now, and hoping some of you are still reading this! Feedback (especially of one paragraph or more), as ever, is immeasurably appreciated, and I will try to have the concluding chapter of the "Goddess" arc posted in a more timely fashion. Also note, for those who enjoy my writing, that I'm beginning to post miscellaneous Charmed content (including, so far, a filk and some drabbles) on my LJ (link in profile)._


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